


First Date

by Incoherentbabblings



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is So Done, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Car Chases, Chaptered, Dark Comedy, Decapitation, F/M, First Dates, First Love, Gang Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love at First Sight, Puppy Love, Stephanie Brown is not Spoiler, Tim Drake is Not Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incoherentbabblings/pseuds/Incoherentbabblings
Summary: Tim has one more test to pass before Bruce will allow him out as Robin.  Like Dick and Jason before him, he has to avoid being caught by Batman for one night.  He has already failed once, and is determined to succeed this time.  Determination which might not count for much when Stephanie Brown is on the run from the mob.  Her mother kidnapped as a way to threaten her father, Stephanie manages to escape and run into Tim.  Unable to leave Stephanie alone when she is in need, Tim decides to try and multi-task.  All he has to do is rescue Stephanie’s mother, take down the mob, avoid Batman and get Stephanie to agree to a proper date all in one night.  Absolute anarchy ensues.*An alternate take on Tim's ascension to Robin and Stephanie's ascension to Spoiler.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [First Love (2019) Trailer](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/525239) by Takashi Miike. 
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's test begins. Stephanie has a terrible start to her night. A different kind of love at first punch is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Welcome to my next fic. This is 100% inspired for the US trailer for First Love. I didn't know the plot when I started writing so it's purely the premise of girl being chased by the mob and the bloke getting drawn into the mess cause he's head over heels for the girl seems as good a place to start as any. The film looks absolutely bonkers so I wanted to try and capture that energy in a story. God knows if I succeed. Everyone is a little bit older than they otherwise were in the comics. I have no excuse.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tim tried not to stare too long at the Robin costume behind the glass panels. Batman was stomping down the cave stairs behind it, heading in Tim’s direction. He was currently slumped at a desk, fiddling with small explosives.

The final test began in three hours, and Tim was so nervous he felt like he was about to give birth to a brick.

Avoid Bruce from eight at night until eight in the morning. That was all. A demented game of hide and seek; stop any (small) crime that you came across that night but avoid being pointed out by or grabbed by the Bat. No costume, no equipment, just you and the clothes on your back and feet.

Dick had managed it, Jason had too.

Tim was on his second go.

The first time he had fumbled simply because he was not fast enough. He had managed until three in the morning. Squatting in an abandoned building in the narrows, he had stopped to eat a breakfast bar and take a piss.

It had not ended well.

So, six months later, endless missions as Batman and Oracle's mission control plus one and at least sixty lessons on improving reflexes, he was getting a second shot.

He had been told under no circumstances would there be a third. If he failed this, Robin was dead (in every way that mattered).

Dick was optimistic to Tim’s face, happily offering advice and a change of teacher whenever Tim could manage visiting New York. However as far as Tim knew he had not vouched for a second shot to Bruce himself. Dick still would not step foot in Gotham if he could help it. His relationship with Bruce, something Tim had given himself the task of starting the restoration of, was still very strained. Jason’s costume in the glass case hung over everyone like the dead elephant in the room. Always present, always in sight, always inescapable.

No, the push for a second go had come from Barbara. Tim enjoyed spending time with her. She was sardonic in her wit, but patient in her teaching. Sometimes it was reassuring, sometimes it was patronising. She had a level head and a gentleness about her that somehow reminded Tim of his mother (little he got to spend significant amounts of time with before she kicked the bucket).

Maybe he was projecting.

His brain wandered, thinking of what a Gotham psychiatrist would make of him. Nothing good probably. What sixteen-year-old signs up for what he signed up for? What he pushed for? If Bruce and Dick had had their way, none of this would be happening. Tim’s stubbornness appeared pathological. He titled his head, wondering if he was being cruel by pushing Robin back into the lives of people who had wanted to leave it behind. He briefly realised that he was acting on the assumption that he knew how best to handle the emotional state of two grieving men than they themselves did.

Although, thinking of Dick and Bruce’s emotional processing capabilities, perhaps Tim did know better.

He frowned and pressed his lips together, hands still fiddling with the small explosives that he would not be allowed to take with him tonight. So lost in his own head he only realised he was glaring disgustedly at Bruce until Batman coughed loudly. Tim started, fingers fumbling over the bomb’s trigger.

“I wasn’t staring at you.” Tim said pitifully. 

“Clearly.”

Tim had no response and looked down at the tiny bombs. They couldn’t do much damage, they stung more like a paintball pellet when they exploded. Enough to make you wince and potentially fall over, weak enough to avoid any real damage apart from your suffering ear drums and bruises from the popped shell. 

“Where’s my starting point this time?”

Batman looked at the time: 7pm. One hour until kick-off.

“Wayne Tower” he said. “Fifteen-minute head start, then I will set out from here. Be back at Wayne Tower any time after eight, but before nine tomorrow morning. Don't think you can squat there all night. You'll lose in less than half an hour.”

Easy.

Nodding, Tim stood up and pulled away from the table. He still held on to one bomb with his right hand, thumb rubbing anxiously against the sphere.

“I won’t fail this time.” He swore.

Bruce said nothing, and there was no movement of his mouth to indicate any other sort of reaction. Tim felt himself internally slump. Bruce had no faith in him. He’d always known that, and logically he understood the reasoning. It didn’t mean that it still didn’t sting a little.

“Your father understands you won’t be home tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m covered.”

Ives was the cover. He hadn’t intruded too much into why Tim was sneaking out all night, but felt naughty enough to agree to lie to Jack in case enquired further. It wasn’t the most solid of plans, but Tim also knew that his father barely checked on him as is. Too lost in his own head to notice what his son was up to. 

“Good.” Batman held out a small device. “Take this. If you need help or want out, switch this on. I’ll be able to find you then.”

Tim stared at it for a moment, then rather reluctantly took it. “It’s not on already is it? Not much of chance tonight if this is already tracking me.”

Batman was unamused. “It switches on when you switch it on.”

Tim’s awkward smile fell and he nodded, pocketing it.

“See you tomorrow morning then.” He joked, laughing with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt.

Bruce just grunted and went to turn away. Tim exhaled heavily, gnawing on his lip, when his thumb snapped a small knob on the bomb. He looked down, realised he had just triggered it, and squeaked.

The thing popped in his hand with such a loud bang that it disturbed the bats above, screeching and rustling. One of them proceeded to take a massive crap which plopped down between Tim and Batman. Swearing loudly, he flapped his hand quickly back and forth, trying to cool down the burn. Bruce had turned at the sound, then stared at the pile of bat waste on the metal floor. His gaze moved up, and watched Tim make a fool of himself. Not one ounce of emotion was shown on his face. Tim smiled, eyes wet with the sting.

“This is fine.” Tim said.

“Is it?”

“Yup. Peachy.” Tim whistled and winced and buried his hand between his thighs. Bent in half, head near the floor, he choked out a polite goodbye, wishing for Bruce to just leave him in his humiliation.

When he finally gathered the courage to look up, he saw that Bruce was gone. Smacking his head repeatedly, he slumped away to his red car, sidestepping the bat poo that Alfred would inevitably have to clean.

A great start to a great evening for sure.

Tim parked around four blocks down from Wayne Tower, a multi-storey which smelt of piss, alcohol, weed and assortment of other nose wrinkling things. It was around the block from the hospital, so was not used for much outside of frantic potential patients and their visitors. 

Slowly he made his way down the stairs, hopping past a passed-out chap hanging over the railings. Coming out onto the overwhelmingly busy street, he began to make his way to Wayne Tower.

He had a rough game plan. One that, in hindsight, was not detailed enough. First time round he had made the mistake of planning out his every move, to which once Batman had figured out that plan, tracking Tim down was easy-peasy. No, this time, he was going to (Night)wing it. 

He was going to stay low initially, stay amongst the crowds of central Gotham for as long as it was busy and as long as Batman needed to stay out of sight from the average Joe. He’d worn bland clothing to try and blend in. Black sneakers, black jeans, some plaid shirt and a red light jacket. A backpack had nothing but the absolute essentials in them. He’d been refused any tools to help him, but food, drink and money was allowed. He’d left his phone behind, and the tracker Batman had given him was zipped in an inside pocket.

The city’s churches rang out that it was eight o’clock, and it was go time.

He took in a deep shaky breath, rolled back his shoulders, and left the tower grounds.

* * *

Stephanie knew she had her pissy face on. It matched her insides, which were churning in a such a rage she had developed heartburn. 

If she threw up, she begged it would be after she got off the bus. And in front of the hospital.

Her mom had insisted on her coming to pick her up from work. Her mother’s shift ended at eight, and there Steph was on her way to collect her mother. 

A lone seventeen-year-old girl travelling in the dark on public transport. 

Bad enough for any city.

But in _Gotham_?

Stephanie wondered if her mother was _trying_ to get rid of her. 

She knew she had enough of an angry expression that no-one dared sit near her for fear she would start ragging on their very existence. Or throwing up on their feet. Depended how awful the heartburn got.

Headphones in playing no music and sneering at nothing, she silently stewed the whole journey into Gotham City Centre.

Upon arrival outside the hospital, she waited for her mother to emerge.

Crystal stumbled out into the early autumn air, wearing probably a thicker coat than was necessary. On her feet were her white slip-ons, but she had changed into what appeared to be her pyjamas. 

Stephanie inspected Crystal as she shuffled over. “What’s with the jammies?”

Her mother ignored her. “Need to head to the pharmacy.”

Curling her lip, Stephanie shook her head. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s eight at night? I’ll go to the one round the corner first thing in the morning for you before you wake up.”

Her mom didn’t seem to hear her. “I’m all out. I won’t sleep unless I got something to knock me down for the night.”

Seeing how uncooperative she was being, Stephanie snapped as her. “Weren’t able to grab some spares from the cupboards? You know the in-house ones won’t give anymore so you—”

“That’s enough Stephanie!” Her mother whirled and grabbed her hand, pulling her down the street. “I am in _pain_ after a nightmare shift. I don’t need you to have a go on top of everything.”

Guilt flooded Stephanie, and she shut up. She reminded herself that she couldn’t be responsible for her mother’s sobriety and tried to let it go. She twisted in her mother’s grip until she could hold Crystal’s hand. Her mother twined their fingers together, holding tight. All was forgiven. Conflict avoided. 

“…We got through another scene of Hamlet today.”

“Oh? Enjoying being Ophelia?” Crystal asked, staggering slightly, the pain in her back slowing the pair down considerably. 

“It’s fun… kinda. Though, she doesn’t even have that much to say or do in the end.”

“No… most of Shakespeare’s tragedies don’t give much to the women.”

“Lady Macbeth and Juliet aside.”

“Hmm. The comedies are better anyway.”

And so, they talked, slowly making their way through the centre of the city, hunting for the one pharmacy that a) was open after eight and b) was within walking distance of their bus stop route.

Gotham was noisy and bright tonight, many staggering people yelled and fell over into the road, but most of them were laughing or from having a good time. The neon signs for assorted bars, restaurants, clubs and shops were garish more than welcoming, but Stephanie liked it all the same. The city was _alive_, though down each dark alley uncomfortable smells and sights ensured both women kept deliberately facing forward. A humdrum of the city came out at night, especially after twelve. That was when the Bat would appear, and all hell would break loose. Stephanie and her mother lived far enough out in the crappy suburbs to avoid the hellish events from places like the Narrows from spilling over, but that didn’t mean they had escaped what the city could be unscathed.

For example, Stephanie’s father - Crystal’s husband - hadn’t come home in nearly two weeks now. 

Stephanie cared, if only because she didn’t know why and/or where he was. Maybe he was dead, lost in a shoot out and stuffed down the sewers. Maybe he was cooking up another awful plan to get more money, hurting who knows how many people in the process. 

Stephanie didn’t love or care for her father, but she did care about the consequences of his actions on others, on Gotham. 

On her mother.

They arrived at a pharmacy which looked rather empty inside, save for three blokes staring at the condoms and lube in one corner. Crystal took one look at them and asked for Stephanie to wait outside. Reluctant, but not wanting to fight with her mother more that evening, Stephanie nodded, and lingered under a lamp. She plugged her headphones back in and stared in the shop window, eyes following her mother. 

She watched as Crystal pulled a prescription from her purse at the counter. A very tired and out of it looking pharmacist glanced at it, then glanced at Crystal, then glanced back at the paper, and finally back to Crystal. They heaved such a sigh it was like they carried the weight of the world, and then moved out back to fill a bottle. Her mother’s haggard appearance, making her look older than her age of 42, was in part due to endless cigarettes, as well as the alcohol and drug abuse. The pharmacist no doubt recognised it, but just wanted to do their job and get Crystal out of the store. 

Stephanie ignore the sound of some pervert wolf whistling her from some bar across the road and glared as one of the three condom buying men turned and did a double take at the sight of Crystal. He repeatedly smacked his friend on the arm, not so subtly grabbing his attention. The third guy listened to the pair as they talked, watching with no subtlety the woman waiting for her painkillers.

Feeling a drop of fear, Stephanie went to walk in the shop, praying that faced with two woman, one that could kick and punch and bite particularly hard, the men wouldn’t try anything. The third man noticed her before she entered, and pointed with an exaggerated stupidity, like he was an old friend of hers and it was some inside joke, some usual greeting between the two. 

She jerked to a stop, instead blurting out a call for her mother. 

Crystal turned, frowning, when Stephanie saw them men pull out guns.

She shrieked, and the second man turned his gun on her, and shot above her head, firing through the open door.

Stephanie fell to the ground, then scrambled up. The man had deliberately missed her, so frightening her must have been the aim. Beyond that, she was lost at their motives. She didn’t recognise those men, and neither did her mother it seemed, who was kicking up a storm, screeching and twisting and kicking as the other two men grabbed her. The moment one of them put his pistol on her temple, she froze, and looked for Stephanie out the corner of her eye. The pharmacist had seemingly hidden away in the back once the sound of shots had been made. 

Stephanie tried to rush into the store to help, partially sure that the men wouldn’t do any serious damage to her, when another fired bullet grazed her thigh, shattering the store window. She collapsed from the pain, and looked down as her leg began to run red. 

The man wasn’t trying to miss, he was just a shit shot. 

With a bleeding leg, a mother in danger of being shot in the head, and three men with guns ready to hurt or kill her, Stephanie freaked.

She began screaming hysterically, and a crowd had begun to gather at the spectacle. No police presence appeared, and no-one intervened. Drunken jeers came from the side, but no-one helped Stephanie to her feet or to check on her injury. Three incompetent men with guns were somehow a greater threat then three competent ones to the general public. Stephanie and Crystal were strangers to these people, and not something risking their life over.

Her mother was dragged out the shop and into a nearby car mounted on the curb, not resisting and limp with fear. Once she was inside, two of the men turned for Stephanie, but she had managed to pull herself to her feet. Still screaming, although with rage this time instead of fear, she body slammed one to the ground, doing a roly-poly on top of him. Her leg burned in agony, but she managed to pull herself up to standing. She began to sprint as best she could away, heading back towards the hospital. She had to treat her leg first.

With what money? Eh.

And then what?

She didn’t really have the presence of mind to think chronologically or logically about her situation. Her left leg gave way every time her foot slammed into the concrete ground, and she flinched and screamed every time a shot rang out until she was so far down the street she was out of range. 

That didn’t stop them however, as the car drove away, one of the men gave chase to Stephanie, seemingly sure he could run down an injured teenage girl.

She managed to turn the corner onto a large avenue, the hospital just one more block down. Wayne Tower, in all its fancy glory, stood watch at the far end. Her leg gave out then, and she crashed into a streetlamp. She called for help again as she saw the man gaining on her. She went to push off the pole, but she collapsed in a heap on floor. She rolled onto her back, groaning. Most people gave her a wide berth as she stared at the man only a few feet away now. One or two hadn't moved out of the way, probably from confusion more than anything. The man pushed several of them out of the way.

Abruptly, and with as much strength as a brick wall, a boy in front of her held his arm out, and punched the man straight in the face.

The man actually whirled up and down, legs up in the air at odd angles, arms contorted strangely as he had stopped at such a speed and with such force. His head thumped against the ground, and with that the man pursuing Stephanie was passed out cold on the street. She felt herself squeak at the man now lying on the floor next to her.

The boy quickly removed the gun from his hand, emptying it of bullets and scattering them on the street. People were staring again, but didn’t say or do anything aside from a passing comment here and there of, “Hey is that guy passed out?”

Stephanie tried not to flinch as the boy knelt in front of her, but she couldn’t help it as he looked at her bleeding leg. He went to touch it, to which Stephanie cried out, and slapped him hard across the face.

The boy lost his balance from the force of the slap but managed to hold his hands up in deference whilst looking at the floor submissively. He was trying to make himself as small and nonthreatening as possible. A difficult task to achieve when faced with a bleeding, sweaty, crying girl lying on the floor. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just wanted to check on it. Should I get you to the hospital? It’s not far from –”

“I know where it is! Where do you think I was running?”

Her sharp interruption didn’t seem to offend him, instead it seemed to amuse him.

“Yeah. Sorry. Sorry.”

He finally looked at her then, and Stephanie felt her heart stutter for a reason other than fear. He also seemed equally gobsmacked, and his gaze made her squirm.

_Darnnit_.

“My name’s Tim.” He finally offered, smiling like a dork who hadn't just one punched a gang member.

_Shit_. He was cute. 

Her stomach rolled abruptly, and Tim watched as she turned faintly green, growing concern on his soft face. Her heartburn apparently had had enough of this evening, but she managed to turn her head to the side in time for her to vomit all over the street. Some woman cried out, stumbling away and fell into the gutter, heels flying off comically. Someone muttered, "Jesus Christ". Stephanie and Tim couldn't care less. He reached out and stroked her hair, far too familiar for someone he had just met and watched puke. Stephanie found she actually quite liked it. 

A moment's pause, and Stephanie turned back over onto her back. Someone shouted about how disgusting she was, and the blood oozing from her leg was starting to flow upwards on the uneven ground, mixing in with the brown stinky vomit. There were carrot chunks from the soup she'd microwaved earlier slipping down a storm drain. Her mother had just been kidnapped. Stephanie had been shot in the leg. She had bits of puke stuck in her hair and teeth and now her breath smelt really bad.

Her mother had just been _kidnapped_. Stephanie had been _shot._ In the _leg._

Tim was grinning at her as if she were a million dollars. She smiled dreamily.

“…Hi Tim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike last time I think I'm gonna write and update as we go. It'll be slower going then twice a week updates, but I still have a pretty concrete plan for each chapter, so don't worry. Again, it's looking like ten or so chapters and about 30/35 thousand words.
> 
> Kudos and comments really mean so much to me, please leave one if you can! I'm at incoherentbabblings on tumblr if you wanna chat! I'll see you whenever!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie and Tim meet and try to figure the other out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! Two goobers develop huge stonking crushes on each other. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos. 100 hits already! Ah, that's so wonderful to see. Thanks again, hope you continue to enjoy

Tim had heard gunfire over the hub of the crowds and had decided (probably ill-advisedly) to check it out. He wanted to see if there was anything he could do in civvies to help. It seemed he was in luck as the blonde girl that barrelled through people, crashing to the floor, left leg stained red, was actively shouting for it.

He saw some guy in a cheap black suit running towards her. Everything about him, from the gun to the loose tie to the greasy balding hair, screamed that he was a dangerous loser.

Tim had punched him in a way that made him kind of wish Bruce had seen it all. It was – in Tim’s humble opinion – flawless. 

When the girl on the floor had finally looked him the eye, Tim breathing halted and his jaw dropped.

Oh boy. 

Objectively she was a mess, her mascara had flooded down her cheeks and snot was starting to come out of her nose from all the crying she’d done. When she turned and vomited, bits of it got stuck in her hair. The smell made Tim gag, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop smiling. 

She had cheeks that looked like a hamster, high and full and blessedly clear of any teenage acne. Her lips were pouty and red, chapped and chewed and with a bloody split down the middle. He tried not to look lower than he needed to, but protruding collarbones peeked out from under her green t-shirt and brown jacket.

When she smiled back at Tim shyly, her blue eyes bright and sharp, Tim struggled to remember that she needed medical attention and quick.

Tim realised she reminded him of a little bird.

“Can you stand?”

She tried to get her breathing under control and shook her head in denial. “I need help.”

He breathed out an okay, and Stephanie’s vision blurred as she went cross eyed. His breath smelt good. 

What the hell.

Kneeling in front of was a boy who simultaneously looked like someone Gotham born and bred versus someone who didn’t exist in real life. The pale skin dark hair and grey eyes were one hundred percent to be expected of a city which saw the sun twice a year – _and was literally named GOTHam c’mon_ – but Tim also looked too soft to belong in the city. Too fragile. 

He had a freckle near his jawline.

Tim turned around, kneeling in front of her. “I’ll carry you.” He said.

She pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms came underneath her knees and he hoisted her up. She hissed in the initial jostle, but once he was on his feet the pain faded.

He was strong, strong enough to knock a man out in one punch and to pull his weight and another’s upwards. He didn’t look super buff, honestly he was quite slim, and short too. He couldn’t have been any taller than her five foot seven. His backpack created a barrier between her stomach and his spine. Her own bag, a tiny little black satchel, had managed to stay around her shoulder through the ducking running and falling.

Tim began to jog down the street, and Stephanie was a little gobsmacked. She watched as they left the man behind on the avenue, and realised she hadn’t caught what kind of car her mother had been taken in, or what direction it had drove off.

They arrived into A&E like it was no big deal for Tim to be carrying a human sized dead weight. As Stephanie had suspected, it was heaving with Friday night accidents, junkies, drunkards and violence. 

Stephanie half expected Tim to put her down and leave her. He had done more than enough. More than anyone else had done. The minute her feet would touch the floor, the reality of her stolen mother would hit her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. Where could she even start? She couldn’t stay long at the hospital; they would quickly track her down here once they realised that guy was probably still passed out on the street corner. Her being in this hospital was putting everyone else at risk. She just needed her leg bandaged and the wound numbed. 

Then she would go hide or something. She hadn’t figured that part out yet.

“We’re going to be waiting a while.” Tim said, turning to look at the door. He wanted to leave.

“You can go. If you need.” She said, shuffling on his back to make him loosen his grip. “Thank you. You saved me.” The awe that seeped into her voice was genuine, mixed with a regret that the white knight was going to leave her. The feeling of being lost was creeping in, and her voice was breaking.

He stared and stared and stared at the automatic opening and closing doors. If he lingered, Bruce would find him within the next five minutes. It would be over quicker than last time, and with it any chance to help Bruce, Dick and the people of Gotham beyond punching out a creeper chasing a girl down the street. The cooling air drifted in from outside. Tim wondered if he’s already been caught. It was not even nine pm, and he knew he was going to blow it. Robin was probably done for.

But if it was, then at least he could see helping this girl through all the way. He wasn’t quite ready to leave her alone yet. She probably wasn’t safe, though he needed to check what caused the chase and shooting.

He needed more time with her.

He stared down at the legs he was holding. She was pretty muscular for a teenage girl. Probably was into her sports.

Gosh she was cute.

Tim tightened his grip and moved to join the queue to report in, still holding her up. Stephanie stared at the back of his perfect head incredulously. Okay, maybe he wanted to make sure someone had seen to her leg before going, but didn’t he have somewhere to be? She relaxed regardless, and leaned back into him.

“Can I ask what happened?” Tim said, breaking the silence.

She pressed her face into his neck, mortified that he was staying around to help her and actually gave a hoot. Who did he think he was?

“I dunno!” She groaned, her head and arms hanging down limp. “Three freaks at the pharmacy, they grabbed my mom… I dunno what they want with her. I was just picking her up from here…”

“Is she sick?”

_Yes. Very._

But that wasn’t what Tim meant.

“She works here.”

Tim nodded encouragingly, feeling an optimism that had utterly deserted Stephanie. “Once we get your leg sorted, we’ll call the police.”

She scoffed, trying not to be rude to the poor guy who didn’t know any better. “Yeah right. A criminals wife got taken, why should anyone care?”

“Criminal?”

“…My dad… He… He’s…”

“…Not very nice?”

“I learned a long time, when your dad is the Cluemaster, police don’t care much for what you’ve got to say.”

“Cluemaster?”

“You haven’t heard of him?”

“No, I have.” Tim said pleasantly. Of course, he had. God knows how many hours he had spent pouring over Bruce’s files on each and every one of Gotham’s weirdos. “You’re Arthur Brown’s kid?” He said it like he was shocked, surprised that Arthur could even produce offspring.

She exhaled, dejected. Story of her life.

“A disappointing ejaculation for him I am sure.”

Tim burst out laughing and bent over, nearly throwing Stephanie off. He quickly corrected himself when she yelped in pain and threw her arms tight around him again to steady themselves.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“Glad I could amuse you.”

“Don’t worry about the police. If they won’t help, I know someone who will.”

She snorted again. “Better be Batman, Tim otherwise –”

A nearby nurse who was talking to a homeless fellow looked up at Stephanie’s snark and did a double take. Her mouth dropped open, “Stephanie?”

Both Tim and Stephanie jolted at the acknowledgement, and Tim silently chided himself as he realised that he had never asked for the girl’s name. No, a nurse in the unit had seemingly recognized her. Stephanie seemed neither embarrassed nor relieved to see this lady. She instead shook like a leaf. Tim tried to rotate himself to act as a wall between the two women.

The nurse tottered over, took one look at the wound on her leg, then croaked out, “Where’s your mother? What happened? She only finished her shift an hour ago!”

“Taken. I don’t know why. I can’t stay long, Betty. They’ll know I’m here. They had a lot of guns and not a lot of brains. Three guys in cheap suits shot out the pharmacy on Broad Street ‘round the corner, they’ll do the same here.”

She didn’t need to say more, as the nurse looked utterly horrified held her hands up. “Give me a few minutes, we’ll get you wrapped it up real good and quick and then you get out of here. Just this once, you can skip the queue.” She looked at Tim then, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“I’m a friend,” He said before she could ask. “I can get her somewhere safe when you’re done but… could you get someone to call the police? They’ll take it more seriously if it comes from the hospital that one of their employees has been taken.”

Stephanie kept her face deliberately neutral at Tim’s little speech. She wanted to believe him, but she also didn’t want to question him in front of anyone. 

They were pulled off into a small room, and a frazzled doctor looked a little relieved when Stephanie removed her jeans behind a curtain. “It looks worse than it is.” He’s said, cleaning it quickly as she laid down on a bed. Tim stood on the other side, trying to look nonchalant but constantly keeping an eye on any entrances to the Hospital. He was still visible to Stephanie, who watched him the whole time the Doctor was with her.

He had a thin neck, she noticed, and his head was shaped like an egg. Like her he had high cheekbones a pointed chin, but unlike her his jaw was wider and his nose was straighter. She continued to stare at the freckle on his jawline.

He looked a little sad to her.

The Doctor hummed ominously and made Stephanie break away from staring.

“Does it need stitches?” Stephanie asked, afraid of the answer. She already had one large scar dominating her stomach, she didn’t want another lining her leg. The doctor shook his head.

“It can be glued, less scarring that way, and it’s not too deep. Not allergic, are you?”

“No. Once got my head glued, right at my hairline see?” She pushed back her fringe and sure enough, a shiny scar ran along her forehead.

Tim was trying to be good and not peek, but he frowned at the knowledge that she had been stuck back together before. He hoped it was from something trivial like falling off her bike. He hoped no-one had hurt her.

The doctor set to work, quickly and efficiently. When wrapping up her leg, he gave the usual spiel on keeping it clean, changing the bandage as and so on, and explained that the numbing agent would take just a little while longer to set in.

“Don’t put too much more pressure on it if you can.” He said, tapping her leg and indicating she could get dressed again.

“Can I... Like shower somewhere? Or at least my hair?”

The doctor looked unamused at her chancing it and told her to go home if she wanted to get the puke out her hair.

When she stuck her nose around the curtain, Tim was still standing guard like a hawk. She tapped him on the shoulder.

“All done. Still need to wash my hair and have a mint.”

He smiled brightly, indicating he could help with one of those things, and pulled his backpack around, rummaging through it. He gave her a stick of gum. Chewing happily, she watched as he returned to his bag.

“One sec.” And then more money then Stephanie had ever seen in person was pulled out of his wallet, and Tim practically threw it at the doctor. He then grabbed Stephanie’s arm. “That’ll cover it all right?”

The doctor looked equally as mortified as Stephanie. “It doesn’t work like that…”

But the young pair were gone. They started to make their way out, but Stephanie was shuffling, the anaesthetic not totally kicking in yet. Tim immediately tugged her round and hoisted her up once more.

“What’re you—”

“Tell me when you can walk on it yeah? We’ve got a fair ways to go.”

“And where’s that?”

Tim wasn’t really sure. He figured a safe house, one that he knew the access code to. She could be left there and then Batman could take over. He’d find her mother no worries and Tim could finish his hide and seek mission no worries. Stephanie would be a good way to keep Bruce off his tail… _after_ she was safe.

There was also the problem that the only safe house Tim knew the access code to was a forty minute drive away, and it wasn’t like he could just get in his car. No, that would get him caught in an instant. They needed to use public transport.

“Would you believe me if I said I did in fact know Batman?”

They exited the hospital, the streets now even busier then when they had crashed into each other. The noise wasn’t distracting however, and in a way the crowds provided a decent amount of cover. 

Despite not being able to see her expression, he still felt Stephanie screw her face up suspiciously at his query.

“Normally I’d say no but… I dunno any guy that also punches that hard, has that much money to throw at Doctors and is so willing to be piggybacked… so maybe my point of reference is skewed.”

Tim laughed again. She was really good at that, making him laugh.

“Maybe! Listen, I know you don’t know me, but I promise I just want to help.”

She truly didn’t understand him. He couldn’t be this naïve... “Why?” She asked, all cynicism and sarcasm leeched away.

“You were in trouble.” He said it like it was ever really that simple.

“But no-one else bothered. No-one else cares.”

“Well… it’s kind of like what you said.”

“Oh? You’re not like most people?” She said, breathing into his ear. He tried not to shiver at her teasing.

“Most people can’t do what I can do. I wanted to help. So I learned how to help. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Suspicious but also impressed, she leaned forward, and pressed their cheeks together. He smelled nice, mostly of soap, but it was better than what most teenage boys emitted with their b.o. or body spray. She probably still smelled of vomit.

He sighed happily, hoisting her up more securely.

“Honestly. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” And she pecked his cheek. Tim immediately entered cloud nine and smiled like a dork. “Thank you, Tim. But you still haven’t said where we’re going.”

“Right. Yeah.” 

Maybe he was overthinking it. They had no proof that those three goons were following them. They’d had walked in the opposite direction of where they had met, so Tim was unsure if anyone was following them. He could drop her off at the Police Station, which was just a few blocks down from them, near Grant Park, but if he were honest with himself, he wanted to ensure Bruce dealt with this case himself. Tim might not have been able to see it through, at least not tonight, but he could make sure the best guy for the job could.

He paused at the top of a subway entrance and made up his mind.

“We can go to a safe house in Bristol.”

“Bristol? Safe house?”

“Told you I know Batman right?” He crowed. “The second he sees you in the safe house he’ll know he doesn’t need to worry about you. Just your mom. And who better to save your mom then Batman?”

Stephanie screwed up her mouth. “I don’t know. Bristol’s all the way across the city. My mom… she could be de—”

“That nurse called the police. I saw her. They’ll be starting to look for her. Batman would have heard the call, he’ll be searching for you both. If he knows where you are, that’s a check off his list for things to do tonight. Your mom won’t die.”

His tone was firm. No argument was to be had. She tried to believe him.

He let her down, but still offered his hand for her to walk down the stairs. She stared at it.

“You can trust me. Nothing else bad is going to happen to you tonight.”

She took his hand and squeezed it.

“Awfully big promises Tim.”

He looked behind her, seeing movement that she couldn’t, and frowned a little suspiciously.

“What?” Stephanie asked, going to look, but Tim tugged at her arm insistently, encouraging her down the stairs.

“Nothing. I hope. Let’s go.”

She nodded and began hopping down the steps. The tiles were stained yellow and were wet with a seemingly permanent combination of rain and ground water, as well as a hint of urine. It wasn’t pleasant.

They headed to the northern line. They’d have to pass through all Gotham’s islands to get to Bristol on the mainland, and even after they’d arrived, it was still a twenty-minute walk from the subway stop to the safe house. 

They could do it. Even if they were being followed. 

Waiting on the platform Stephanie continually shuffled from side to side. Tim hadn’t let go of her hand and she wasn’t really wanting him to. He was solid next to her, a good weight to lean on. 

He was constantly watching though. Watching her, watching people come down the stairs, watching security cameras, watching down the tunnels... It was unnerving how alert he was. Did he see something she didn’t?

She tried to distract him.

“So…Why were you in the city centre on a Friday night at half eight?”

“Uhh…” It seemed he hadn’t expected her to ask that question. And it seemed he had no answer for her.

The subway arrived then, blowing Stephanie’s hair around her face. The smell of her vomit wafted up through her nose, and she twitched. Entering the cart, Tim shuffled her over to the far end, the pair unable to get a seat, and he stood in front of her, crowding her into a corner. Others piled in, loud shouting and conversations making both Tim and Stephanie almost curl into each other. 

They didn’t speak for most of the trip, the noise and closeness of the other bodies made what should have been an uncomfortable ride, and despite the numbing in her leg she could still feel the tight skin underneath, and her jeans that had hardened with dried blood cracked and rubbed uncomfortably on her skin.

She noticed how sharply Tim was dressed, despite how simple the clothes were she could tell they were expensive. She should have guessed when he suggested going to Bristol, and the throwing of money at the doctor was another massive sign. 

Rich people in general didn’t care, or liked to pretend that they cared. Tim did care. There was a genuineness that flowed off him unlike many of the people he no doubt hang out with. She felt her cynicism start to crack in his presence, and she smiled at him.

He smiled back, his front teeth a little too big compared to his canines and molars. It reminded her of how young he was. Stephanie tended to smile with her mouth closed, almost like a smirk, but Tim could already tell when it was sincere, as her eyes crinkled up into half crescents when she appeared happy.

She needed a haircut. Her layers had grown out to be a bit raggedy, and her fringe was nearly at the point of crossing her brow bone. It didn’t look like a fashion statement. He could see on her t-shirt remnants of older stains. Cooking oil stains. Knowing what he knew about her parents – a non-present father and a mother who worked horrendous hours – he wondered how much she’d had to care of herself growing up, making her own food, doing her own hair, buying her own clothes… The fact that was as bright eyed as she was seemed a minor miracle to Tim.

As they continued through Gotham, the carriage gradually began to empty the further from central Gotham they got, but even after seats appeared neither moved to sit down. Instead they stood in the corner at the end of the carriage, the small open window blowing humid air down the tin can. Stephanie continued to chew the gum Tim gave her, her tongue making little popping noises with it through tiny bubbles.

Impulsively, Tim leaned in an inch. 

Instinctively, Stephanie leaned back an inch, not really realising what he wanted.

_No, no, nope. That was dumb. Oh God. Dumb. Dumbo. _

Tim froze, and moved back, berating himself. Too soon, too soon. Who goes kissing a girl less than two hours after meeting?

He grimaced as he realised what a dumb thought that was. Lots of people kissed people they'd just met. Lots of people did way more than that with people they'd just met. But Tim wasn’t like that. He wasn’t. He continued shaming himself, while Stephanie watched, at first amused but then concernedly at his internal arguments that played out across his features. She laughed nervously and looked down the carriage over his shoulder. 

In the next carriage along, she could see five men gathered at the window, peering through into Tim and Stephanie’s box. Each one was uglier than the previous. One of them she recognised. 

“Oh my god.” She stuttered, hiding behind Tim. Too late, they’d seen her peeking and had begun to move. 

Tim immediately dropped the self-loathing and grew worried. “What? What? Is it your leg?”

“There’s weird looking men in the carriage down from us. They’re looking at us. At me.”

“How many?”

“I saw five?”

“We’ll get off at the next stop.”

“What? No, we’re not getting off at the _Bowery_.”

“We have to. We can grab the monorail up to Coventry then get back on the Subway from there. It’ll be fine.”

“Have you ever been round this neighbourhood?”

“Have you?”

“No. And I want to keep it that way.” 

“We can lose them easier there.”

As they bickered, Stephanie saw the men trying the door to come through and down the train. She realised she didn’t really have a choice.

“I don’t know if I can run out of here when it stops.” She confessed.

“Try. I won’t leave you behind.”

He was making so many promises it was becoming frustrating. It was one thing to punch a man unawares, it was another to get into a brawl with five men with guns. 

Fingers intertwined, they both squeezed past others who had chosen to stand in order to collect near the doors. The subway began to slow down, the overworked brakes squealing. Pulling up to the stop, a crowd of three people deep was waiting to get on, which suited Tim just fine. Hopefully the men weren’t stupid enough to shoot through a crowd in the subway tunnels of Gotham.

The men managed to get the single mechanical door open to enter the carriage. One already had a gun out. One lady saw it and began to screech, and the occupants of the train began to throw a raucous at her hysterics. 

The automatic doors opened then and sprinting with a speed Stephanie had no chance of keeping up with, Tim yanked her out onto the platform and into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should have seen me writing this fic and having like seven tabs open with maps of Gotham with my hand on my chin at like one in the morning. Thankfully it's pretty consistent thanks to No Man's Land but oh boy. Those neighbourhoods are wild. Do we even know where the Brown house was in canon? Up in Burnley or...???
> 
> Anyway it's all gonna kick off next chapter. I mean... what has Bruce been up to?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat is out of the bag, and Tim gets a dumb bright idea.

It was not even nine o’clock and Tim had already failed the test. He had made the foolish choice of choosing to linger in the start area, hoping to slip under Bruce’s nose when he chased a false lead. It hadn’t happened, and Bruce watched from up high as Tim weaved through the crowds in Gotham city centre. He had heard the sounds of a shooting around the corner, the pharmacy on Broad Street, and Bruce watched from up high as Tim began to make his way towards the junction when a blond teenager crashed past the crowd. Unable to stop himself from interfering, Tim punched the man chasing her unconscious.

Bruce hummed to himself. It was a very good punch.

He watched as Tim picked up the girl and made their way to the hospital. It seemed she had been shot. 

_“B?”_

“Yes Oracle?”

Barbara’s mechanic voice filtered through the earpiece in the Bat’s cowl.

“_Shooting not far from you. Looks like a woman was taken. A girl was shot at. No other casualties.”_

“I’ve just seen her. Tim has taken the girl to the hospital.”

_“Tim?” _Back in the Clock Tower, Barbara leaned back in her chair. She clenched her fists in front of her keyboard. Bruce had seen Tim? Already?_ “Oh no.”_

“It’s over Oracle.”

Gulping loudly, Barbara tried to think a way around Bruce’s fatalism. She decided not to acknowledge Bruce’s statement. Instead, Barbara side stepped it_. “How is he?”_

“I haven’t confronted him yet. The girl needed help getting to the hospital. He’s with her now inside.”

Barbara took a breath, seeing an opportunity to delay Tim’s failure lecture. _“The woman who was taken, I took a look at the CCTV in the area. She was taken in a black VW. I can find and follow the car?”_

“Do that.” 

_“Yes boss. And… oop, there we go. Got a match on her face.”_

“Anyone of importance… to the mob?” 

The slow correction made Barbara want to snap, but she repressed it, and tried to remain light in tone.

_“Her name is Crystal Brown, Arthur Brown’s wife… Looks like the Cluemaster made some enemies.”_

“The girl then must be their daughter?”

Some taps indicated Barbara was doing some quick searches._ “Stephanie? Looks like it.”_ Barbara clicked her fingers as she looked up the girl._ “She’s a year older than Tim, they live up just across the river in Gotham County.”_

“Master Bruce?” Alfred’s voice interrupted them. “Phone call from Central Hospital. One of their nurses has been kidnapped on her way home from work. A Crystal Brown? Her daughter is being treated for a gunshot wound, though apparently it is not severe.”

“We’re tracking Crystal. Anything more about the daughter?”

“They claimed that she was going somewhere safe. Could not or would not give specifics.”

“One moment.” Firing a grappling gun, Batman swung across the rooftops, landing to peer down at the hospital. He would catch Tim’s attention, ensure Stephanie was safe, then pursue the mother. 

Barbara sucked air in between her teeth. _Oh! An opening! _ Mom and daughter were separated. Maybe if Bruce was focused on Crystal, Tim could be lost to him again watching over Stephanie, and he could get back in this hide and seek game. If Tim was taking Stephanie somewhere safe, that meant hiding out the night in the city… if Tim was smart. Barbara liked to think Tim was smart, but he was also like Dick in that he liked to be a hero. Weighing up what was smart versus what was right was a problem each of them grappled with, some better than others.

Ideally Bruce would look for Crystal, and Tim would watch over Stephanie. Getting the two boys to line up in that though, especially when Tim was out of earshot, could be nigh impossible. She could only try to help Tim. To do that she would help Crystal. To do that Bruce had to follow up on Mrs Brown, and leave Stephanie to Tim. A win-win situation for all. But how to pull Bruce away from watching Tim? How to ensure Tim wouldn’t get any bright ideas of being the hero to both women?

She began tapping her fingers against her desk, screwing up her lips as she searched through CCTV footage for the number plate and car that had left the pharmacy not too long ago. 

Tricky tricky. 

Bruce waited patiently for ten minutes. Before either Stephanie or Tim emerged from the hospital however, the man Tim had punched out stirred across the way, rolling over into a puddle of Stephanie’s sick and blood. Groaning, he pushed himself up, and pulled out his phone, remaining sat on the wet cold floor of the street.

There was no way Bruce could have listened into the conversation. He was too high up and the streets were heaving with people out for the night. Maybe he could…

“Taking the more direct approach sir?” Alfred queried, seemingly reading Bruce’s mind.

_“You’ll have to question him. He’s another lead to find out what they want with Crystal. You can find out through him.”_ Oracle cut in, almost breathless in her delivery. Barbara was trying to get Bruce off Tim’s tail, and Bruce knew that. 

She was right though; he couldn’t let the man leave. He would know where they were taking Crystal, and what they wanted with Stephanie. 

Tim would have to wait. He watched as the man entered an alleyway to try and compose himself, then shot over above him, ready to yank him up to the rooftop. 

Time to talk.

* * *

Stephanie shoved her way through several people, instinctively holding herself low as they bolted through the crowds. Clambering up the stairs was difficult, but she managed it somehow, and sliding through the gate quickly led to a panicked thought before Tim yelled for her to jump over, which she managed, pushing up and over the gate card readers. When she landed on the other side her leg gave out, and she crumbled to the floor. Pushing herself forward, she managed to build back up to a run, catching up to Tim, who had his hand out still for her to hold. His grip was cold and stiff, but he wasn’t shaking or sweating. Tim wasn’t afraid of these guys. She looked back for a moment to see them struggling with the gates, pushing back at being refused access by the testy technology.

Exiting onto the street she pulled Tim left, away from places like Crime Alley. He followed willingly, looking for a way out for them.

“We need to go up high.”

“The roofs?” Looking up at the tenements and slums, she couldn’t see any public buildings for them to go through. There were only smaller stores, barricaded up tight for the evening, and endless blocks of flats. Maybe one of the front doors had a broken lock, but it would slow them down and give the men a chance to catch up for every locked door they tried.

Tim yoinked her across the road, jarring her shoulder joint and pulling her down an alley.

She didn’t have time to protest as he was already climbing the stair framing that ran up the side of the building, using momentum to help thrust himself up a flight at a time. He paused two stories up, looking down to see she wasn’t following.

“Do you need a hand?” He asked sincerely. In the dark his eyes managed to remain bright, but otherwise he had somehow managed to blend in with the shadows. 

Stephanie gulped, looking down the alley. There was a congregation of folk who were eyeing the pair suspiciously, but she could hear the mobsters shouting, they were gaining quickly on them.

She shook her head and jumped, pulling herself up and over the railings. Pushing off the wall, she managed to leap high enough for Tim to grab her arm. He swung her up back and forth until she could cling to the stairwell, which she then was able to climb to reach the roof. Tim showed off, practically parkouring his way past her.

She got to the roof after he did. Copying Tim, she held herself low once more. They both peered over the edge, watching as the stupid men realised they’d lost them on the other side of the street. The five men split apart, heading down different alleys and streets, trying to track Stephanie down. One of them stayed behind and pulled out his phone. Tim leaned forward eagerly, wanting to hear what was said.

“We found her, she got off the subway at the Bowery. We followed her to Perry and 27th but…”

He trailed off as someone responded. 

“Well I don’t know! There was some boy with her. Little skinny prick.”

Tim gently snorted, and Stephanie nudged his shoulder with her head. A soft familiar headbutt that made his heart stutter. 

“Gawd, do you really need her? Isn’t the wife enough to make Brown show up with the money?”

Stephanie jolted, and instinctively Tim tightened his hold, trying to comfort the sudden tenseness. 

“I’m sure the Bat has bigger fish to fry tonight. A shootout at a pharmacy isn’t high on the list…fine. Fine. We’ll keep looking. Fine.”

And that was that and the call ended. He dialled someone else, asked for their location, and ran off to catch up with them.

There was silence as Tim and Stephanie caught their breath and tried to piece together what they could.

“My dad pissed off the mob.”

“Looks like it.”

“They want to use my mom and me as leverage. As if he cares.”

“Hey,” Tim nudged her. “If they want Arthur to show his face, they won’t kill your mom until they have the both of you and her in the one place.”

“They could be hurting her or –”

“They won’t. This is the mob, not Zsasz or Black Mask. They want money they’re owed. There’s no point doing anything before that. They’re pragmatic. Your mom’s just collateral.”

She let go off his hand, letting it hang limp. “…How can you just say it like that. My mother is not collateral damage. Her life is in danger.”

Tim realised he’d overstepped by her flat tone. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be! This is just a fun adventure for you is it?”

“No!” He burst out, contrite. “God no. I’m sorry, I was trying to make you feel better.”

Her face turned beetroot with anger. Oh God.

“How?! By telling me that my mom is gonna die, but it’s fine, since it won’t be until I’m with her to get my brain blown out too?”

“It means we have time!”

“We? Who the hell do you think you are?”

She pushed away from the ledge, pacing back and forth. Tim saw her start to sniff and her eyes grow wet. She was scared, hurt and trying to trust a stranger. It was a lot for one night.

“Stephanie… I know this is awful. I know how awful it is with your mom. Please believe me. I know you don’t know what to do, and I know you feel like you’re stuck with me. I mean… if you want me to go—”

“No. You’re the reason I am not dead probably. Three times over now.” She whirled and looked at him kneeling on the roof. “_Who_ are you?”

_Why are you the way you are?_

He heaved a sigh, hearing the unasked question, and stood up. “My full name is Timothy Jackson Drake. My parents formed Drake Industries. Have you heard of it?”

She wrinkled her nose. He _was_ loaded then. “Yeah, a little.”

“My mom… she died a few years ago. My dad nearly did too. Some guy was hired to poison them.”

“Why?”

He looked back down on the street. The Bowery was incapable of being quiet, and the sounds of sirens, distant gun shots and shouting echoed through the air.

“…I’m sorry.” Stephanie said. “It’s none of my business. I’m sorry that you lost her.”

“…Not your fault.” He shrugged uselessly. “I don’t want anyone else to hurt like that.”

She peered at him. “That’s very noble of you.”

She wasn’t being sarcastic. Tim laughed sadly all the same and shrugged a little helplessly. Stephanie fell a little more in awe of him.

“I don’t want you to leave me.” She whispered.

He looked her straight in the eye. “Then I promise I won’t. Not until you’re safe in Bristol.”

She moved closer to him, close enough that they were nearly nose to nose. He really wasn’t that tall.

“Then what?”

“I’ll contact Batman.”

“And that’ll be that. I won’t see you again?”

She saw him try to restrain himself from looking shocked. He once again appeared overly earnest in his usual sweet manner. Stephanie caught herself staring at his open mouth.

“Can I see you again?”

“…Maybe. If this mess gets sorted…”

“_When_ this mess is sorted.”

“Hmm. Then yes.” 

She tried to lean in closer, until they were sharing their breath, but it seemed Tim was looking absentmindedly at the floor. His eyes were a hundred miles away, sparkling with hope.

“We can go on a proper date then.” He said, smiling mostly to himself. He realised instantly he hadn’t meant to say that out loud and his smile slid off his face. 

Stephanie choked and stared at him, reeling at his openness. “Excuse_ me_?”

“_Nothingifyouwantittobenothing._”

_“Excuse **me**?”_

This boy was bonkers. Stephanie knew it. As loopy as half the people in this freak show of a city. But he was so earnest it was genuinely disconcerting. She couldn’t make her mind up if she was disturbed or flattered by his obvious interest. It was shallow of her, but having a cute, well-meaning boy offer to take her on a date was making her preen internally, and for a moment she flattered herself at catching a rich boy’s attention.

She was abruptly reminded of the worst aspects of her parents when she thought it, and her warm chest froze in disappointment at herself. Besides, she couldn’t trust this boy, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much she tried. Actions and words were always in conflict, and even he couldn’t make the world fit around what she wanted. She tried to remind herself that his promises were unrealistic. 

Maybe he was genuinely psycho under all that blushing and gentle demeanour. An angry ticking time bomb that knew how to manipulate vulnerable girls. Teenage boys were good at that.

But no. The mortified expression on Tim’s face was pointed internally, and she couldn’t see much anger in him at all. In the two hours she’d known him, he’d either been on the physically defensive, acting like a brick wall with a fist, or when he himself was attacked verbally or physically, he either ran or curled inward, becoming small and nimble. He didn’t instigate. His ego was placed on actual founded skills. 

Stephanie wasn’t the best at reading people, but she soon convinced herself that Tim just wore his heart on his sleeve. She felt her cheeks grow warm in the rooftop breeze.

“I’m sorry.” Tim muttered again.

“You need to stop apologising.” Stephanie said, reaching for his hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just not used to being someone as –”

“Dweebish?”

“_Genuine_ as you.” Tim was staring at their interlocked hands. “I do want to get to know you better. I want to see you again. But I can’t think about it just yet. I can’t stop thinking about my mom.”

“Well… how about you tell me about her.” Tim said. He tugged Stephanie back towards the stairwell, and the two slowly began to descend.

“Umm… What do you want to know about her?”

“She’s a nurse right?”

“Yeah. An A&E nurse mostly. It’s real hard on her.” 

“I can imagine.” 

“She’s addicted to painkillers.” She blurted out. Tim turned, looking at her sadly. Stephanie shrugged uselessly. “I don’t know if dad did a number on her, or mentally she just needs an escape, or both but… I dunno. It sucks. She’s only sober when she’s at work.”

“How long has she been an addict?”

Stephanie frowned, thinking hard. “…I don’t remember… a time when she wasn’t… I don’t think…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No but…”

They plopped down on the ground, Tim poking his head round the corner.

“We can grab the 82 from here.”

“Okay.”

They walked, and Stephanie moved closer to Tim, almost burying into his side.

“What about you? Your mom? Is it painful to think of her?”

Tim blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Not so much anymore. We weren’t super close. I spent so much time worrying about my dad. He took a long time to recover. He’s still recovering in a way. I guess I just… regret that she wasn’t there, when I was a kid. And now she never will be.”

If Stephanie could take one small comfort from her own relationship with her mother, it was that it still had the potential to be functional. Maybe even loving. Perhaps it was foolish, but Stephanie still hoped, deep down. Tim didn't have that chance. 

“What do you remember about her?”

“Uhhh… She changed hair colour a lot. She dyed it blonde, red, black, brown… She used to always bring me back stuff from abroad. A lot of it was pretty much expensive junk... but I’ve kept it all.”

Stephanie smiled. 

“Was she nice? Do you have a photo?”

“I uurrr… I don’t have my phone on me right now.”

She frowned, lips pressed together as they waited by the bus stop. A few others were also waiting, everyone minding their own business thankfully, though Stephanie felt like one of them was leering at the couple, though his face was hidden under a hoodie.

“Okay seriously… what were you doing in the centre of Gotham tonight?”

Tim anxiously scratched the back of his head. “Gosh…hard to explain.”

“Try.”

He was saved by the arrival of the bus. Stephanie went to get on, but Tim tugged her back, insisting to get on first. He didn’t step all the way on to start with, curving his head around the aisle, narrowing his eyes when inspecting those on board. Stephanie huffed and gave a gentle push on his back. Tripping up the stairs, he smiled awkwardly at the severely depressed looking driver. Possibly the worst shift to have on the already dodgy Gotham bus system, Stephanie couldn’t fault him for having such a no-nonsense face on.

They quickly paid and headed for the middle rows, Stephanie sitting in the aisle seat. The bus was nearly full. There was a guy behind them dressed only in a tank top and speedo swimming trunks. Stephanie tried not to ogle in horror. She reached in her bag and pulled out her phone. Tim’s eyes bugged out his head in a sudden realisation.

“Oh no. Turn that off.”

“I was gonna check if news had caught on about my mom…”

Her pleading made him sympathetic, but he shook his head. Reluctantly, she turned it over and took off the back, pulling out the battery, SIM card and SD card, putting it all back in her little bag. The man behind them began insistently kicking her chair. She felt her eyes roll up into her head, and she tried to keep her temper in check. Not worth it not worth it not worth it...

“I hate this.” She confessed.

“Being helpless? I get that.”

Stephanie thought of what he had said about his mother, and knew he was being honest.

“How did you learn to fight so good anyway?”

“I pushed and pushed and pushed the right people.” He sounded faintly amused as he spoke, like he was recalling a funny memory.

She leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially. “Was one of those people Batman?”

“Uh.” His face showed he’d put his foot in it, and he screwed up his lips trying to think of an answer. His lack of response gave her the confirmation she needed. A violent kick from behind made her jerk forward, and with a hiss she tried to continue their conversation.

“How’d you find him?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Could he teach me the same stuff as you?”

“I mean he could…don’t think he would though. He didn’t exactly take to me with open arms.” Tim paused, staring at their feet. Stephanie had put one foot in between his, as if she liked being wrapped around him in some way. Tim smiled absentmindedly, but then grew sad once more. “Still don’t think he has actually.”

“That’s not surprising.”

Tim scoffed and looked at her, eyebrow raised. “In what way?”

“That a guy in a _bat_ suit is easily impressed. Like he's the kind of guy where nothing’s ever good enough. You’d have to like…save the world from Superman to get his approval or something. I dunno.”

She’d hit the nail on the head, uttering something Tim had heard from Dick a dozen times before. At first, he’d thought Dick was just jaded by his view of Bruce, but overtime Tim saw the truth in the statement. 

Or maybe Tim was slowly becoming jaded too. What could he do to impress Bruce? Like really really impress him?

A lightbulb pinged on in Tim’s head.

A very stupid lightbulb.

“I can do that.” He whispered out loud.

“Huh-Ow!” Her query turned to a cry of shock. The speedo man behind them had decided Stephanie’s hair was worth pulling hard. Her head snapped back a broken gasp escaping her. Tim whirled around and she jerked out of her seat violently. “What is your problem?” She asked, looming over the guy.

“Sit down!” The bus driver angrily called back.

“Stephanie.” Tim quietly urged.

“No! What is your problem?” She asked again.

The man was utterly off his face, Tim and Stephanie knew that just from looking at him. But it didn’t stop either of them from being horrified when he looked up at Stephanie and called her several names that even a tattooed bloke down the aisle gasped at.

Stephanie gawked for a moment.

Tim grew angry, and began to kneel on his seat. “Hey you can’t just –”

He didn’t get to finish, as Stephanie recovered her senses enough to utterly lose her rag. She slapped Mr. Speedo. Hard.

His head whipped to the side, slap and neck making a sickening snap each. Her face was white with anger. Everyone in the bus _oooed_ like teenagers at the potential of a fight. Tim felt his stomach drop at the violence and the anxiety it produced. Another part of him couldn't help but find the whole thing cathartic for Stephanie and satisfying for himself to see such a man be smacked down like that. He breathed an impressed laugh.

The bus driver was not as amused, throwing the breaks on and opening the doors. Stephanie lost her footing on her weak leg and stumbled down the aisle. Tim instinctively jolted up to prevent her from falling. He grabbed her wrist and corrected her balance.

“Off!” Was all the bus driver said. No, he truly did not suffer any sort of misbehaviour. 

Stephanie whirled away, humiliated, and Tim followed.

They got off and Stephanie waited until the bus drove away. Once it was out of sight, she screeched. It was so piercing Tim actually winced and took a step backwards.

With a huff she bent in half and struggled to get her breathing back under control. Tim waited patiently next to her.

“That was impressive. To stand up for yourself like that.” He tried to sound positive, but she shook her head, eyes wet as the adrenaline faded.

“Even dogs fight back when you kick them.”

“You’re not a bitch, or anything else he called you.”

“You don’t know that.”

He only sighed. She was incapable of taking reassurances. He doubted after learning of her mother and father that she’d ever received positive affirmation in her life. 

He gave up then and looked around.

“Where to next?” Asked Stephanie, the crown of her head still facing the floor.

“Um…” Looking around, Tim tried to catch his bearings. There were five people brawling with each other across the street. Didn’t look like a mugging, just drunk people being drunk. Tim cut his losses and decided to leave them alone. There was a convenience store open down the way, which meant they were getting into slightly better territory.

Slightly.

For Gotham.

If they walked the route of the bus, they’d eventually arrive at the monorail, where they could head up and get back on the subway to Bristol, without doubling back to where the mob were searching for them.

“What were you saying earlier? Before the shit grabbed my hair?” Poisonous loathing leaked into her voice when Stephanie asked Tim her questions. She was still pretty angry.

But oh yes. Tim’s bright idea. 

Tim thought they’d lost the mob for now. He also thought he was still out of sight for Bruce. It had just gone quarter to eleven. Three hours gone, nine to go. Easy peasy. Bruce must have caught on to the kidnapping news, right? He would be pursuing that. Not Tim.

But what if he hadn’t? And Stephanie’s mom had been abandoned by any competent form of authority?

Or what if Bruce _had _found out, but was hunting for _Stephanie_. Did he know she was with Tim?

Oh God. What if Bruce had already found him?

If that were true, then why couldn’t _Tim_ go after Crystal? Stephanie wasn’t a troublesome load, she was half fire half angry slapping. She could climb and run and jump better than most civilians. She wouldn’t be a burden. 

She’d said she hated being helpless…

Okay, so he was deviating slightly from the initial plan. He could make it work. He was more than capable. 

They needed a lead though. Information on where Crystal had been taken. Tim stared at the convenience store.

Another equally stupid light bulb went off in Tim’s head.

“You hungry? Need to pee or anything?”

“I want a shower so I can get the puke out of my hair.”

“Right right. Makes sense. A sink then. I just… I have an idea.”

“Huh?”

“You want to not be helpless. Let’s stop running. Let’s find your mom.”

She finally unbent her back, peering at him suspiciously, but curious nonetheless.

“Expand please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter and by extension fic can be summed up in the following sentences: Whoops Tim you've already failed. Bruce is unamused. Barbara continues to be the holder of the shared batfam brain cell 75% of the time. Stephanie has done and will continue to do an extortionate amount of righteous slapping. 
> 
> I'm glad people are enjoying this, please give me a comment or a kudos if you do. See you next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Stephanie do multiple stupid things - an ongoing saga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Next chapter ahead! Please give it a comment of a kudos if you are enjoying, they really make my day!

Bruce wasted no time on the screaming man thirty stories up above Gotham’s streets.

“What do you want with Crystal and Stephanie Brown?”

The man did not seem suitably composed to give a response and continued to screech like a bat out of hell. 

Batman dropped him ten stories, then yanked him on the cord back up. The man was by then crying, tears flooding down his balding head. His trousers were also wet but Bruce tried valiantly to ignore that issue and repeated his question.

“Arthur Brown owes Ibanescu a loooooottttt of money.” The man sobbed. “He had time to pay it back when he got out of jail back in June, but he’s taking too long…” The man began to whimper, and the wet patch grew. Batman grabbed his hair and shook his head.

“And where have your friends taken Crystal?”

“I don’t know! We were supposed to call when we had them! Somewhere in the Narrows I’d guess!”

“How many are out looking for her?”

“Last I knew fifteen? But there’s maybe more now that the daughter’s gone… We’re not gonna hurt them before Arthur turned up…honest! They’re just bait! I nearly had the girl but some kid punched me out and I don’t know where either of them have gone…”

“You know where you’re going?”

“Prison?”

“Hmm.”

And then the man was dropped once more. Like a yo-yo, he was then tugged up, straight into Bruce’s waiting fist. The knocked-out man was left for the police to pick up on a nearby rooftop, with more than enough evidence for attempted murder and kidnapping in his shooting efforts towards Stephanie.

_“I’m taking at look at what Dragos Ibanescu has been up to recently.” _Stated Oracle.

Bruce moved up high, getting ready to rooftop hop away from the city centre towards to quieter areas.

“More trafficking I suspect. Catwoman and he tangled recently.”

_“Don’t know what Brown could possibly get from this guy. Cluemaster just wants his ego stroked right? That’s why he does what he does, so why Ibanescu?” _

“…Any luck with the car?”

_“Not quite, but if this guy thinks it’s heading to the Narrows that… well it narrows it down a bit.”_

“When you find Crystal, Oracle, let me know. I need to speak to Tim, make sure he goes home.”

_“Ah. About that.”_

“What?”

_“He and Stephanie left the hospital five or so minutes ago?”_

“Which direction did they head in?”

_“…Dunno.”_

“Oracle.”

_“I am busy! Black cars and Romanian gangsters aren’t going to find themselves. You’re the detective, track him down yourself –”_

“Oracle do not –”

_“Okay bye.” _ She teased and cut the line. Bruce was left standing awkwardly atop a pillar, trying to reconnect the line, but Barbara would only be contacted if she wanted to be spoken to. 

She was ensuring Tim got a second shot, but he was being pursued by up to twenty men, all fully armed, whilst he had nothing but a backpack filled with energy drinks and a wallet. 

Bruce looked down on the crowds. If they were heading to the Bristol safehouse then they would have gotten on the subway across the Avenue. He couldn’t follow them down there, but he could access the subway systems, and see who had bought tickets, who had gotten on, and who had gotten off. He would start there.

Batman jumped off the building, and moved towards the central hub.

Stephanie wasn’t safe with Tim, even if he was taking her somewhere safe, the route to the one safehouse Tim had access to was anything but… Batman needed to track them down, and quickly. Tim was in over his head, and Stephanie was probably terrified out of her mind. 

* * *

“I need to pee. Can we use your staff bathroom?” Stephanie asked.

“No.” Said the boy, once he’d caught his breath. He sounded quite certain of his response. “It’s a staff bathroom, not for customers.”

Tim and Stephanie burst into the empty convenience store with such a bang that the young man behind the counter jumped a mile. He shuffled whatever magazine he’d been reading under the counter, face red with embarrassment.

Tim sighed and marched up to the counter. The boy took a nervous step back. 

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much will it take for you to let her pee and wash her hair? One hundred?”

He pulled out his wallet and slammed two fifty-dollar bills down. The boy stared suspiciously.

“We have CCTV here you know. If I get caught taking money…”

“Then just let me pee! Be a good Samaritan!” Stephanie interjected. The boy looked increasingly uncomfortable. He no doubt saw her blood-stained jeans and her messy hair and makeup. He was right to want to have nothing to do with them. Stephanie decided to jump to drastic measures.

“Look man, you tell me which is worse: letting a customer pee all over your floor – which I _will_ do if I don’t get my way – or allowing them to pee and clean up in peace. I have had a hell of a night and I just want to freshen up. I’m not a druggie, I’m not dangerous… there just aren’t any public bathrooms in Gotham and I’m _really_ far from home still. “

The boy grew green at the thought of cleaning up some teenage girl’s urine, and acquiesced. 

“Okay fine. Five minutes.” He lifted the counter to let her through. 

“Wait, Steph.”

Stephanie jolted at him calling her by her nickname. She turned back, eyebrows raised.

Tim had his arm held out. “Let me hold your bag.”

“Oh! Thanks, sweetie.”

Tim smiled lopsidedly, but the cashier was unamused. He refused to give her the key and herded her through to the back.

He returned to find Tim piling high food, drink and other items. Tallying it up, the cashier eyed Tim suspiciously. Tim looked up at him and smiled awkwardly.

“I’ve had better first dates.” He joked. The cashier did not find it heart-warming and instead scanned the goods aggressively.

“You’re going to get me in trouble. Thirty-four sixty-nine total.”

Tim laughed uncomfortably and put down one fifty bill.

“You can keep the change. Honestly.”

The man harrumphed and cashed it in. Stuffing his bag full, Tim pulled out Stephanie’s phone, and put in the battery once more. He waited until it switched on, then moved towards the entrance of the shop. Looking through her contact lists, he saw she didn’t have that many. Her mother was one, but her father was not, and there were people who were probably a school mate or two, but the entire list fit onto her screen, no scrolling required. He looked back towards the door, wondering if she were lonely in her day to day life.

Taking a breath, knowing in the back of his head this was going to maybe be a mistake, but it was a risk he needed to take, he dialled for Stephanie’s mother. At the very least, Oracle would pick up the call, no doubt she would be watching for any activity from Crystal or Stephanie’s phone. If this risk didn’t help Tim and Stephanie, it would certainly help Barbara and Bruce. The call rang for a long while, but eventually was picked up, and a man’s voice answered, to which Tim immediately hung up.

Now it was a waiting game, someone – or several someones – would show up soon.

Tim’s stomach started to grow cold. He was missing the point of the assignment. He was to stay hidden, to only help others if absolutely necessary, and now he had invited trouble to him. He could handle himself, he was sure of that, but he still felt naked without his bo staff. Stephanie he was more unsure of, but he had been on the receiving end of her slaps, she wouldn’t go anywhere without a fight.

Five minutes passed and Stephanie and still had not emerged from the bathroom.

“Can I check on her?” Tim asked, becoming anxious that the cashier was going to be danger so long as he was out front of the shop.

“If anyone pinches anything whilst I’m in the back with you...” The boy threatened.

“Sounds fair.”

And he was led through.

Stephanie meanwhile had gone to great efforts of sticking her hair under a tap, running hot water and the sad bar of soap on the sink to get out the vomit which had been haunting her for hours.

She was probably going to get a cold now without any way of drying if, but she grabbed a tea towel from the tiny kitchen and rung out her tangled hair as best she could, running her fingers through then giving up when they’d hit a knot. 

She looked in the mirror and wet a paper towel, dabbing her cheeks to clear off the runny eyeline and mascara. She had had to scrub a little, so her cheeks looked red and sore when she was done, but at least she didn’t look like such a mess anymore. More like someone who had just come from swimming practice rather than a shooting casualty on the run.

Speaking of shootings…

She worried about her leg. The glue might not have held up under the pressure of leaping and running and jumping that she had done. She couldn’t feel the blood flowing down her leg anymore, but the bandage just might be doing its job. 

Rummaging through various cupboards in the back, she found the first aid kit, went into the bathroom and shut the door. Pulling down her jeans and plopping herself down on the toilet, she tentatively unwrapped her bandages. 

Sure enough, at one end the skin had started to split apart, and blood was oozing out. Steph breathed out a curse, then rummaged through the kit, hoping to find something that could close the wound.

It would be messy, and she was bound to have a gnarly scar, but she needed to get it closed whilst the skin was still numb.

She was actually quite good at sewing, for one reason or another. She found a needle and thread and some disinfectant wipes.

It would have to do.

She set to work when Tim burst in.

“Jesus!” Stephanie shouted, nearly stabbing herself in the wrong place. “Knock first!”

Whatever he was going to say didn’t come out. Instead he shut the door and knelt next to her. Her embarrassment at being caught in her undies faded at his concerned look. Tentatively, he touched her leg, and she suppressed a shiver. 

“It’s opened up?”

She sighed and looked down at her sliced leg. “It’s okay, I can stitch it.”

“I can help?”

“No. No, it’s quicker if I do it myself. I wanna just get it done before my leg’s not numb anymore.”

He watched her concentrated expression as she began stitching. Her fingers quickly grew bloody, but she was right. She was quick at sewing, and fairly neat at it too. She wiped away the blood with some wipes, and Tim helped her hold the bandage tight and she reapplied it.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you?”

“…Once or twice.” She replied reluctantly.

“I heard, back at the hospital, about your forehead –”

“It’s fine.” Her tone was short, but not rude. Her defensiveness made Tim feel like his heart was frozen. A jagged lump grew in his throat, and he realised he’d made a mistake. 

Tim stayed knelt on the floor as she shimmied her jeans back on and washed her hands. She turned back to Tim, who had a slightly haunted look on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, voice soft.

“I made a mistake.”

“What? Tim…”

“We need to go.” And he rose, opening the door to reveal the cashier far too close to have been doing anything but listening in. Tim tried not to make a face at him.

“Call the police.”

“What?” The boy sneered at them.

“Bad men are following us. They’re heading here. Hide back here and call the police.”

He didn’t move, and Tim felt his temper rise.

“Do it! This isn’t a joke! How do you think she got the blood on her?”

The boy looked at Stephanie, and seeing the utter lack of humour in either of their expressions, he pulled out his phone.

“We’ll get out here. Thank you for letting us rest up for a second.”

And Tim pulled Stephanie past the cashier, heading back out front to leave.

“Wait wait wait wait wait.” She puffed as they exited the store, zipping her coat back up. “What’s going on? You said we were going to find out where my mom is? We need to interrogate one of them ‘cause unless you –”

“I got in over my head. It’s too dangerous.”

“What? No-one’s even here!”

“But they will be! You’re too badly hurt and I didn’t think it through!” 

It was the first time he had really shouted at her, but it wasn’t from anger, rather from fright. She could hear how scared he was. She stared him down, not moving with any of his tugs to her arm. An uncomfortable moment past them by. His free fist clenched around something, but she couldn’t see what he was holding. Something he’d bought in the shop probably. She briefly thought he might hit her with it, but she quickly quashed that thought. She had to constantly remind herself, Tim wouldn't do that.

He wouldn't.

The sound of a car racing around the corner made both of turn to look down the street. 

“No.” Muttered Tim. He pushed Stephanie behind him then, uncomfortably aggressive, and she stumbled with a cry. A big black SUV pulled up and the pair were met by two men, a gun pointed at them each. Tim began pulling Stephanie into the alleyway. They’d reached a fair way down when a warning shot whizzed past their heads. Tim instinctively grabbed Stephanie, pressing his body in front of hers.

“Don’t try anything!” One of the yelled. “Turn around.”

Keeping Stephanie behind him still, they both turned to face the men, who stood at the entrance to the alleyway. The other, the fatter of the two, pulled out his phone and rang a number, confirming that they had Stephanie in hand. 

Tim shakily held a hand up, trying to deescalate the situation.

Stephanie is seemed determined to do the opposite.

“Where’s my mom? Where’s my dad?”

“Get in the car and you’ll be with both of them. Out of the way, kid.” The man indicated for Tim to step aside, out of range of the guns. Tim supposed he was being kind. He shook his head.

“Look kid move! We’re sick and tired of chasing this girl down, and I get it, not your fault that your dad’s a massive fuck up Stephanie, but we have a job to do. Get in the car. We need you in one piece.”

One of the men crept forward, getting closer and closer, gun held out, level with Tim’s head. Tim didn’t say anything, and just glared at the man, like he was waiting for something. The hand that was clenched behind his back twitched anxiously.

The man clicked the gun.

“Don’t!” Stephanie throw herself forward, knocking over both Tim and the man. The other guy, further back, fired a shot that went wide and bounced off the metal pipes that stretched down the damp walls. 

Tim swung out from the floor, knocking one man off his feet. Rising up quick, he threw whatever he’d been holding at the other man. With a swear he flinched, and Tim rushed over, knocking the gun out of his hand.

Stephanie rolled over to the man who had threatened Tim and punched his face. Hard. His grip on his gun loosened, and she managed to wrestle it away from him. She opened it up and scattered the cartridges.

Left with an empty gun and a lot of adrenaline, she began to pound the guys face in the pistol. She only got so far towards knocking him out, as he managed to tug her hair so painfully she felt strands be ripped out. She screeched and jolted upwards, kicking him before he could rise.

She looked over at Tim, who had pinned the fatter man to the floor. The arm was twisted at an awful angle, and she could see where blood was starting to spread on the dirty floor. He was yelling something at him, more full of anger than she had heard from him so far this night, but she couldn’t make it out. Her ears were ringing from the echoing gun shot, and her breathing was so laboured and heartbeat so loud her head felt like it was throbbing. 

A sharp, stabbing pain made her leg give out then. The man she’d been standing over punched her in her shot wound, and the nerve endings vibrated the pain through her calf. She cried out and fell down. Her head was then picked up and smacked against the unforgiving floor. Vision blurring and sparking, she flailed, kicking the man straight in the groin. He gasped and leaned forward, giving her enough leverage to smack him hard again. His head connected with the wall, and with a sharp snap, he fell still, chest rising in short puffed out breaths. 

“Tim?” She instinctively called out, rolling on to her stomach. The pain in her weak leg prevented her from getting up on her feet just yet. Tim was still perched over his foe.

“Who’s your boss?” Tim bit out.

The man writhed, not willing to give up his pride to a teenager.

“Fuck you.”

Tim smashed the guys head against the floor, to which he swore once more, even louder.

“Tell me!”

“Ibanescu! God fucking…”

Stephanie managed to crawl over to their pair. Tim took his eyes off the man, but not for too long, to see how hurt she was. She looked betrayed and horrified, but Tim couldn’t understand why.

“Why was my dad working with him?” She asked.

“More like _for _him. Your dad’s got a massive debt kiddo.”

Stephanie’s eyes grew wet, and Tim pressed his knee on the man’s neck.

“Where is her mother?”

“Told you,” The man choked out. “Don’t know. You or the police won’t find her.”

“Batman –”

“Batman has bigger problems than your mom.”

She didn’t argue, and Tim watched from the corner of his eye and she seemed to retreat into herself. She believed this random guy, and not Tim’s constant reassurances. 

Tim felt his anger spike at her self-perception of unimportance.

“How many more are searching for her?”

“There’s twenty. All across the island, looking just for her.”

Tim’s muscles froze. God he’d messed up. Two he could deal with, maybe even four. But he wasn’t Batman, he was just a kid with some training and an injured girl to protect.

He needed to end this conversation and get her hidden once more.

“Tell your boss he can’t have her when you wake up.”

“What?”

And Tim gave such a hard punch Stephanie saw the man’s nose crunch, the cartilage shattering. 

He pulled himself off the ground, then leaned over to Stephanie, raising her from the floor. 

“We’re gonna pinch their car, okay? Get down the road a bit. I wanna check your head. But we need to leave. Now.”

“One more second. Okay?” She said. Limping, Stephanie rummaged through both men’s belongings, looking for anything of use. Both of their phones were locked, but she could see their more recent messages on the screen when or if they came in. 

“Don’t bother with taking them, they’ll be tracked.” 

"One second Tim."

The phone's screen was shattered as Stephanie ran her thumb over it. 

A message was popped up on the locked screen. The entire text wasn't visible, but she caught the jist all the same.

"Mom's in the Narrows!" And she dropped the phone, the back breaking off as she did so. "Don't know where but..."

"It narrows it down. Hah. That's good."

Tim poked his head into the driver’s seat of the car, seeing that the keys were still present. He snorted a laugh at how easy it was. He turned off the GPS and Bluetooth, and gestured Stephanie to get in as well.

She looked back, only to see the cashier from earlier was staring at them through the glass of the shop window, his mouth wide open. She blushed and quickly turned away, crawling into the passenger seat. Before she had pulled the door shut Tim was pulling away, heading in the opposite direction that the men had arrived. He took a few random turns here and there, always heading towards their original destination. Stephanie gripped the dashboard tight, unable to even put on her seat belt. She tried to calm down, but found she couldn't. 

Eventually he pulled up in a dark corner of the city and switched the car off.

They sat in the dark, still breathing heavy.

Stephanie’s breathing wobbled, and became shallow. Tim reached over and cradled her face.

“Steph…”

Stephanie began to cry softly.

“I can’t do this.”

Her breathing spiked, and her tears fell faster. “My dad has been working for a human trafficker. I didn’t think he could go so _low_ and I don’t know where my mom is I don’t know what to do and I’m trusting you but I’m scared of how much I liked that violence and what if I’m just like him,” Her tears made her voice wet and slurred, and she sniffed, undignified and distraught, as the reality of what her father was doing sunk in.

“Steph.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, you don’t deserve this, god I’m sorry…”

“Steph. It’s my choice. I want—”

“But it’s not mine!” She cut him off. “I didn’t choose any of this, I’m just getting pulled around and hiding! I’m not getting a say in anything!”

She was becoming hysterical, Tim could see, and he frantically wiped away large tears from her red cheeks. She looked at him then, the affection being all too much for her. Tim watched as her eyes widened a fraction, like an idea had suddenly occurred to her.

“Stephanie…” He muttered once more. She seemingly made up her mind with a huff, and Tim looked her quizzically. Almost as if from a third-party perspective he watched, practically in slow motion, as she leaned forward and kissed him.

_Oh. Okay. This is definitely what I wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hullo Chuck Dixon shout out. I occasionally enjoy those.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions and feelings have consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write! Hope you have as much fun reading...

The sounds of Gotham continued to penetrate the thick car frame, but sat in the dark, tucked away from anyone and anything, Tim and Stephanie felt very much alone.

“I think I have like…White Knight Stockholm Syndrome or something…” Stephanie muttered. She hadn’t moved away though and was resting a hand on Tim’s. Tim, for his part, still had his eyes closed, and looked like he was on cloud nine with no sign of coming back down soon.

“…Not the…official title… but I hope not anyway.”

He nuzzled her nose, and she laughed, bright and sweet. Shuffling over, she moved to the driver’s side of the car. Tim’s breathing stuttered as she adjusted herself, resting on her shins straddling Tim’s thighs. He leaned up and caught her in another kiss. The mint gum she had chewed thankfully masked the smell of vomit, and her hair was cleaned of it too.

Tim fumbled with his hands, turning up the heat in the car to help dry her tangled hair. His hands then crept up, holding her neck, whilst hers rested patiently on his chest, occasionally tightening when he did something she liked.

Making out in a gangster’s stolen car with a boy she’d met only three and a half hours ago. Hoo boy, she was having an interesting night. Stephanie stifled a chuckle, but still broke away to catch her breath.

He looked up at her and cradled her face again with both hands. Stroking her cheeks, he tried to soothe her blotchy skin and red eyes. She sniffed and smiled sadly at his affection. Feeling safe, she closed her eyes.

Tim felt her grow limp in his grip, head tilting and resting heavily on one hand. Tim eyed the dashboard clock. Nearly midnight.

“Tired?”

“…A bit. Can we rest? Just for a while?” She leant down, resting her face in the crook of Tim’s neck. She shuffled around once more so she was sat in his lap, a comforting solid weight against his chest. Tim held her close, and was tempted for a moment to doze off in the warm car with her.

Tim breathed in deep and glanced out the darkened window. They were tucked away neat out of sight…

“No. I’m sorry Steph. We’ve got to keep moving.”

She looked disappointed, but accepted it all the same. Tim tried to mollify her.

“We should be okay to drive in this to Bristol now. You can close your eyes.”

Her eyes shot open, and she peered at Tim suspiciously. She slowly removed her head from his hold, and his arms collapsed to rest on his thighs.

“Bristol? No, we need to go to the Narrows and grab my mom.”

“I can’t fight through that many people.”

She shifted backwards, back resting against the wheel of the car. “Oh, but Batman can?” She said, tone snide and derisive.

“Batman has armour and tech and bombs and…batarangs. I have two feet two hands and head. I’m not that good.”

“We did fine with those guys.”

“You nearly got shot. He hurt your head.” He raised his hands to check for a bad lump, but she twitched away from his grip.

“I can’t sit and do nothing and hope that Batman finds mom in time. I can’t keep running.”

Tim looked so miserable for a moment, like he knew the sweet moment was over. “You’re going to have to. I don’t like it either. But I know my limits. I can’t save your mom like this. Neither can you.”

It was a harsh put down, and Stephanie threw herself of him and back onto her seat. Seeing what she was about to do, Tim locked the car doors.

She whirled around, face red with anger.

“Let me out.”

“No.”

“Tim, I swear to God –”

His temper finally flared. “I get it! You don’t think I get how useless you feel right now? When my mom died and my dad was in that coma, I couldn’t do shit!”

“My mom’s not dead!”

“No, but she will be if you roll up unprepared to a warehouse in the Narrows against twenty guys with guns. The only thing keeping you both alive is the fact that you are separated. You turn up and your dad turns up she will die! I can’t let that happen Stephanie!”

He’d had enough of her tantrums and contradictions and had put his foot down. She screeched and kicked the dashboard hard. Tim flinched away and Stephanie’s breath caught. Her anger drained, and self-loathing took its place. She knew that flinch. She’d seen it nearly every time her parents argued, and her mom had been hurt. She’d done that flinch herself many times.

“…I’m sorry. That was childish.”

Tim gripped the steering wheel, not quite able to look at her. “You’re under a lot of stress.” He said, tone very subdued. Shame continued to make Stephanie feel sick.

“That’s just an excuse. One my dad uses all the time… Fuck.” She stared hard out the window, then looked in her lap. Her hands were shaking. Tim, after a pause, reached across and held them tight. She whined softly to herself and he rubbed her fingers.

“My dad… he is a bit rubbish too sometimes. Not in the same way as yours but he… he’s not very good. I think. At being a dad.”

She looked across at him, lashes damp, but her emotions were settling down once more. “Does he hurt you?” She asked sadly.

“Ignore. Mostly.” He spoke very matter of factly, a sad reality he had long accepted. “I love him, I do, but sometimes I… I resent him. He remarried so quick after mom died, and I knew their marriage was on the rocks anyway but… you’d think he’d... and then he has a temper. Never at me directly… though that time with my tv was a bit…” He was mumbling to himself, unable to verbalise what it was like.

Stephanie understood the unspoken though.

“You deserve better.”

She said it with such conviction that Tim turned and smiled at her.

“Ditto?”

She smiled back. “Let’s go to Bristol. The sooner I’m there the sooner we can get this sorted.”

“Deal.” He looked at her shyly. “Can I kiss you again?”

Laughing sharply at his roundabout way of checking that he was forgiven, she went willingly.

When they broke apart, she buckled on her seatbelt.

“I’m gonna try and nap okay?”

“I’ll wake you if anything happens. Promise.”

“You are definitely one for promises Mr. Drake.”

“I try.”

The car switched on with a gentle thrum, and slowly Tim set off.

Tim tried to concentrate for the drive through the island, heading for Kane Bridge. They just needed to get across the bridge. From there they could dump the car and walk by foot. Feeling awfully paranoid, he obsessively checked his mirrors and glanced sideways and even upwards through the windows, just in case they were being followed.

The roads were largely quiet though, so for a painfully long twenty minutes Tim drove through the city, deliberately going slower and quieter routes when possible.

Stephanie very quickly dozed off, head hanging limp against her chest. She looked very pouty asleep. He left her alone, only the sound of the car heaters and engine filling the silence. Her hair had nearly dried, but it needed a good brush through.

The stunt at the corner store had been such a stupid mistake. He had wanted to impress her, but he hadn’t thought it through at all. He could hear Dick in the back of his head tutting. Getting distracted by a pretty girl. A pretty girl who liked him back no less.

Hormones…

Stephanie then let out an almighty snort and twitched violently. Tim glanced at her sideways, then returned to watching the roads.

She was very weird, if he were honest with himself. A very sad life, but somehow still filled with a lot of love and humour.

That temper though… It was obvious she hated being lied to, hated being kept out of the loop.  
And Tim _was_ lying to her. He could have called Batman hours ago, could have ended this by now. But he hadn’t. Instead, because of his crush on her and his desire to win Bruce’s challenge, he had dragged her around town, when she could have been safe with Batman. He was putting Crystal Brown’s life at risk, and maybe even slowing down Bruce.

He was being selfish.

The little tracker in his coat sat heavily next to his heart.

Before he could fall into a further self-loathing, he noticed a car one block back.

It was following him.

“Crap.” He reached across and woke up Stephanie, shaking her arm. She reached up and grasped his hand instinctively.

“Wha…”

“We’re being followed. Gonna speed up a bit.” He said it casually, like they needed to make up time on the school run.

She turned around, looking out the back window.

“Oh God.”

“Don’t worry. I can lose them."

“Can you?”

“Well… I can try.”

He put his foot down then, speeding up to ninety, and Stephanie squeaked, squeezing herself onto the back of the seat. She raised one hand to the handle above the car door, the other resting quite firmly on the arm rest.

“Oh boy.” She muttered.

“It’s fine.”

It was not fine. The following car had sped up also, and was doing a frustratingly good job at keeping pace. Tim huffed in annoyance, and took a sharp turn left, the back of the car swinging out and knocking into a lamppost. The car violently jiggled, Stephanie unable to contain her cries of alarm.

“It’s fine.” Tim said again, and they regained control. Stephanie quickly figured out the route he was taking, a long circle that would lead them straight to the bridge.

The car behind them was still gaining.

“Tim...”

Gunfire started then, aiming at the tires of the car. Tim made a little ‘oop’ noise and few around the final corner. The bridge was in sight.

“This is... _fine_.”

“Tim.”

“Yup?”

“There’s more guys and cars on the bridge.”

“Yup.”

Tone still light, he continued his very fast slightly uncontrolled driving, managing to avoid very loud gun shots. Stephanie gulped and looked at the inside of the roof, closing her eyes and doing breathing exercises.

“Please don’t tell me you are planning on ramming – Oh my god!”

A hard slam came down on the car and caused Stephanie to yelp. Someone had landed on the roof.

Tim realised it was Batman from the fact that the gun shots were now being directed upwards, most likely at Bruce’s head.

Of _course_, Batman would look into a high-speed car chase with lots of shooting and swerving and destroying public property. Of course, of course, of course…

Tim was screwed. He was so screwed.

“This is less fine.”

“Who -”

“Batman.”

He swerved on the bridge, turning the car horizontal, blocking off several lanes. Cars that were trying to get on the bridge from the other side were blocked from getting on, and sure enough once Tim had driven onto the Kane bridge more cars appeared, refusing to let others on. The civilian cars that had been ahead of Tim whirled to a stop, and the men at the end of the bridge shouted for them to get out and off. Stephanie watched as people fled from the road and onto solid land.

She and Tim however, were trapped.

“Batman? Wait, what?” Stephanie asked. She reached across to open the door and poke her head outside, trying to see if it was indeed Batman on the roof.

A black gloved hand reached down and very purposefully shut the door.

“Oh. Okay.” She sat back against the chair. “Tim...”

She turned around to see that Tim had completely collapsed his seat, and was lying flat, perpendicular from the steering wheel. For the first time he looked completely beside himself in panic. Stephanie pursed her lips.

“Tim.”

“_Shhst_.”

She let her mouth fall open, gobsmacked. “Don’t _shh_ me.”

She looked through the window. Men from both ends of the bridge were closing in on the car, and she suddenly understood Tim’s desire to be out of sight of the windows. Even if they were tinted, she didn’t doubt enough gunfire could get through the glass.

The figure on the top of the car shifted, its weight sitting low.

“Should I get down?”

“Probably.”

She didn’t though, she wanted to see what was going to happen. She watched as, with increasing slowness and caution, about ten men on either side approached the car.

“What are we going to do?”

“Stay put until he takes them all out.”

“You sure it’s Batman?” She asked, leering through Tim’s window. She shifted and crossed her legs on the seat.

Tim muttered something to himself that she didn’t catch, his eyes screwed shut. All she got was a distinct whiny tone, like a five-year-old having their toy taken away.

A sharp object was thrown at one of the men, causing him to fall with a dramatic glurk. It was shaped like a bat and answered Stephanie's question for her.

“Oh!” She gasped.

Then chaos erupted. Gunfire began in earnest, to which Tim reached across and snapped Stephanie’s seat down. She flew back with exaggerated flailing and squeaking, her legs kicking up onto the roof before her ankles collapsed on the dashboard. Her bag swung up and smacked her in the face, to which Tim ignored her deadpan cry of _ow_ and reached past her to grab his own backpack.

Stephanie struggled for a moment with the disorientation of having her head lower than her torso. Tim incessantly tapped her legs to bring them down level with the rest of her, to which she quickly let them drop. He then reached across and grabbed her hand tight. His hands were sweaty. Stephanie realised he was genuinely frightened.

Shouts, screams and sounds of punches and gun shots ricocheted through the vehicle. Occasionally it rocked the body of the car, to which Tim’s hands tightened on hers. She didn’t understand why he was so worried. To her, it sounded like Batman was winning.

“I messed up.” He whispered.

“I mean... you did your best.” She said, trying to console him.

“No... no I didn’t.”

“Tim, it’s okay. He’s winning.”

He looked positively wracked with guilt in a way she just couldn’t understand. Tim peeked upwards, seeing that Bruce had moved further down the bridge on Stephanie’s side, and was currently fighting off three guys at once.

Maybe there was still...

A crowbar carried by a screaming woman smashed through Tim’s window, and the adolescent pair squealed like they were in a horror film. Tim gathered his wits quicker than Steph, and shoved the door open, hitting the woman in the chest and nose. She cried out and stumbled backwards.

“Follow me.” Tim ordered.

The pair got out of the car, seeing that all the folk aside from Mrs. Crowbar were passed out on their side of the bridge. Batman seemed to be methodically working his way through them all. The navy suited woman rose up from her pained crouch, and went to smack Tim across the face with the metal rod, but Tim kicked her hard and she flew back, grip loosening. Stephanie wrenched it from her, and with an almost righteous fury, whacked her across the face.

She fell to the floor, and Stephanie heaved deeply. Glancing at the crowbar in her hand, she dropped it like a dead weight.

“That was a bit much.” She breathed. The woman groaned on the floor, no doubt with a broken jaw.

Tim ran over the edge of the bridge, jumping over to the pedestrian paths, and looked down at the black water rushing past below.

The bridge was very high above the water, and under normal circumstances you couldn’t survive the jump. Tim rummaged through his backpack, trying to find something that could disrupt the water’s surface before they landed, or something that could slow down their descent.

Stephanie stumbled over, slowly climbing over fences and barriers. The numbing of her leg was starting to fade, and she could feel her stitches tugging at the skin. She watched as Tim pulled something out of his backpack and put it back on. He leant over the railings and watched the river, like he was waiting for the right moment to jump.

“Life’s not that bad kiddo.”

Tim snorted, “Hah.” He looked back at Batman, who was nearly done wrecking the mob. Tim wasn’t out of the game until Bruce physically caught him. At least that was what he was telling himself. He began to climb over the fence.

“Tim!”

“Trust me.” He said as he clung to the railings. He gestured with his head for her to do so as well. She paused, confused by what he was trying to do when the man they were waiting on had shown up. She couldn’t get much safer than with Batman, right?

Then a gunshot sounded, and Stephanie gasped, body thrust forward with the force of the bullet passing through her body. She looked down, vertigo and disorientation making her unable to catch her breath and stay stable on her feet. Just below her waist but just above her left hip, blood began to pour out of a wound. The bullet had passed right through her and embedded itself on the railings that prevented walkers from toppling over.

She didn’t cry out, but lost her balance, leaning over the fence. She couldn’t breathe correctly, and hacked out a broken gurgle.

Tim yelled and immediately reached across the metal, grabbing her and applying pressure to the wound on her back. Her bright red blood ran over his fingers. The exit wound would be large.

Stephanie began to wriggle, as if she were trying to separate her body from the pain, and she was so out of it she could neither steady her breathing nor control her muscles, and she began to flip over the edge of the bridge.

Batman, for all his skills, only managed to turn around in time to see, a third of a way down from him, the car Tim and Stephanie had stolen splayed halfway across the road, and a woman with a bloody face laying just up from the front of the car on the other side from Batman. Her jaw looked dislocated, and blood and teeth lay scattered across the ground. She had a gun in her hand. Looking to the pair, he could only watch as Stephanie tumbled off the bridge, and Tim, recklessly, thoughtlessly, threw himself off after her.

Resisting the urge to shout, he grappled the shooter in the shoulder, and dragged her across the floor, her face getting ran across the concrete and tarmac. He grabbed the woman’s throat and knocked her out as quickly as he could. Police sirens were not far from the bridge, and Bruce ran over to the edge, looking down.

_“If they hit the water at this height it’s like being in a car crash at 90mph with no seatbelt.”_

Oracle quoted the fact at him worriedly, even the electronic distortion was unable to hide her distress. And yet, when Bruce looked down, he could see their two heads in the water, bobbing sideways towards the shore. Tim had slowed and broken their fall, somehow. But Stephanie was likely grievously wounded and needed to get to the Bristol safehouse as quickly as possible.

“Oracle, drive the batmobile to where the get on land. Then ensure they get to the Bristol safehouse.”

_“You’re going to let Tim drive it there?”_

“You do it.”

_“Gotcha boss.”_

He just grunted and turned back to the one man who was still conscious, hiding behind the line of cars blocking the entrance to Bristol. Dragging him upwards, Batman pinned him up again the hood of his car.

“Where in the Narrows is Crystal Brown?”

The man was holding his broken shoulder and crying. All Ibanescu’s men were – frankly – pathetic.

"She’s at one of the warehouses along Yew and Oak… I’m sorry, we weren’t meant to… the girl was supposed to…my boss will… now that Stephanie is…”

He didn’t want to hear any more of the wretched man’s excuses, so threw him down on the floor. The first police car had arrived, and Bruce sighed, knowing he would have to leave Tim and Stephanie be. He couldn’t be in two places at once, and the threat looming over Crystal Brown had grown exponentially.

_“They’ll be okay. I can see them on CCTV. Tim’s got a handle on it with Stephanie and the car. Go save her mom.”_

Ignoring the policeman when he approached, Bruce shot a grapple up onto the suspension cables, and shot away, heading for the central island and the Narrows.

Stephanie and Tim would be watched over by Barbara from now on, and Bruce just hoped Stephanie could survive two bullet wounds, let alone the potential hypothermia and infections that could come from falling into Gotham’s rivers.

Tim had made a series of serious mistakes, and no matter how much Dick and Barbara may have hoped otherwise, Bruce could not let them pass by unchecked this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did Tim soften their fall? Good question! It is one I will not address because I am not that smart a writer. Coughcough. 
> 
> Hope you are enjoying the story, see you next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tells the truth, and Stephanie gets to make a choice.

Tim pulled Stephanie ashore, collapsing into the grassy muddy banks of the river. Stephanie’s breath was shallow and fast, and he could see her pulse at her throat throbbing. Her eyes had drifted closed, and her head hung limply against the floor, her tongue lolling dangerously at the back of her throat. He couldn’t let her go into shock.

“No. No. Steph.” Tim uttered, raising her head so she could breathe more easily. He looked down at the gunshot wound that continued to slowly pump out darkening blood from her torso.

“Steph!” He shook her incessantly, but she only gave a light mewl, and remained limp in his arms.

Exhausted from the night’s events, Tim steeled himself, and went to lift her. The weight of the water and his general tiredness meant he struggled more than he had when he first gave her that piggyback four hours ago, but he managed it. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he jolted her so that her neck wouldn’t fall back and risk her not being able to breathe.

When he reached the top of the bank, he puffed out a conflicted sigh of relief to see the Batmobile waiting for him. The back doors opened, and Oracle’s voice sounded from within.

_“You sit with her Timbo. I’ll get the car to Bristol.”_

Feeling his eyes sting with tears, Tim said nothing and crawled into the back.

The doors closed with a reassuring thud, and the car set off, faster than any other vehicle on the road within Gotham. The blue lighting was somewhat reassuring, as was the speed with which they were being driven, but Tim kept his eyes on Stephanie. Her head was on his lap, the rest of her stretched out as best Tim could have managed. Tim listened to his own breathing, hearing it rattle in and out. He was near a panic attack.

“Babs?” 

_“Mm?”_

“I think I’m freaking out a bit. Can you tell me what to do when we arrive? How I can help her?”

_“Can you take instructions okay?”_

Chewing his lip, he responded with a small, “Think so.”

_"I’ll help however I can.” _Her tone was reassuring, despite the electronic alterations, and the maternal soft tone was enough to make him crack.

“…Thanks.” He very quietly began to sob. Leaning forward, his forehead smacked against Stephanie’s, who shifted in response. Tim glanced down at his hands, which were compressing Stephanie’s wound from both sides. Red ran between his fingers.

“I messed up.” He said to both women. Stephanie did not react beyond a twitching of her eyebrows.

_“Tim…”_

“I was trying to get her to Bristol safe! I didn’t trust the police with her, and I knew that Batman would be looking for Crystal. I thought I could get her somewhere safe and –”

_“Why didn’t you activate the tracker when you found her?”_

“What?”

_“The tracker Batman gave you? If you switched it on when you first met her, he would have found and her and taken her somewhere safe in the city centre.”_

Her tone hardened, and Tim realised with growing horror how his self-given mission was doomed to fail from the start.

“I had to stay hidden…”

_“You could have gotten her to Batman without compromising your location. There were ways around it. Why did you stay with her and drag her across the city?”_

Tim had no response that wasn’t pathetic, lovesick, or juvenile, so he said nothing.

Stephanie it seemed, despite her delirium, did have something to say.

“…wanted you with me…”

“Steph.”

“…don’t want them angry with you. Not your fault.”

If Barbara had heard Stephanie, she gave no indication to Tim. The drive was fast, smooth, and stressful. 

_“We’re here lovebirds. I’ll unlock it for you Tim, just carry her in.”_

Tim did as he was bid, and carried her like a new bride, out of the car and across into the building. They’d gone through the back, out of sight from any camera.

Once inside the sterile suite, Tim carted her over to the med bay, laying her out in the cot. Barbara meanwhile connected to the house, switching on all the lights, computers, and medical equipment. Tim heard the heating blast on at full power, trying to prevent he or Stephanie from getting too cold from their dip in the river.

“_Get a blood bag or two ready. I already called Dr. Thompkins. If Stephanie has been shot with a clear exit wound, then it’s out of what you and I can do. Clean it up, then wrap her up tight. Keep her legs down flat, she’ll bleed out faster if you don’t do that.”_

Brushing her hair way from her face, like he did when he first met her, Tim stroked Stephanie’s cheek anxiously.

“Steph? Stephie, do you know your blood type?”

She swallowed dryly, eyes still shut. Her lips were cracked and sore looking, her split lip had reopened.

“AB plus.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm. Had a few…before now. Anything’ll do.”

“I think we’ve got a few of that type.”

“’Kay.”

“_Get her top off Tim, the t-shirt is just going to get in the way.”_

Tim burned from embarrassment and Stephanie gurgled a laugh. 

“Just… cut if off. Easier…”

“You sure?”

_“Tim, hurry up.”_

He did as he was told, following Barbara’s instructions. He wasn’t skilled enough of a medic to check for anything worse than cosmetic damage, so the best he could do was try to slow the bleeding until Dr Thompkins arrived. He flinched every time Stephanie cried out when he wrapped her torso, but it had to be uncomfortable to work.

Leslie arrived not ten minutes later to a nearly in tears sixteen-year-old and a seventeen-year-old who was probably going through the worst night of her life. She gently encouraged Tim to go clean his hands while she dropped her bag on a nearby table. Tilting Stephanie onto her side, Leslie cut through the bandages. After a brief moment of inspection, gave a very gentle sigh of relief at the sight of the wound. 

“You are very lucky. Passed straight through with no debris. Didn’t even hit your colon or anything. Just damaged fat tissues.”

Stephanie smiled dopily and reached out for Tim’s hand, which he gave, attempting to be comforting. “Baby fat,” she joked. “Can’t get rid of it.”

He nervously hovered while Leslie worked, patched, stitched, and cleaned. Tim was unsure how long it had taken, but it was into the early hours of the morning by the time Leslie felt satisfied enough to return home and to leave Stephanie to rest for the night. 

“Tim you can hook her up to an IV now, we don’t want her organs to get dehydrated.”

The gentle lady was packing her bags to leave, when a sudden thought occurred to Tim.

“Wait… she was shot in the leg earlier this evening. We got it glued at Central, but it came undone and she stitched it herself…can you check? The river we fell in…”

“Less than ideal conditions!” She chided, to which Tim burned red once more. His face gave away more than the expected level of guilt, instead he looked downright distraught, and Leslie blinked at his extreme reaction.

Returning to the pair’s side, she unbuttoned Stephanie’s jeans and pulled them off all the way. Her shoes, elastic flat slip on pumps, slid off easily.

“Maybe put a wash on for her clothes hmm?”

“I can do that.”

Leslie carefully undid the bandages, seemingly shaky at what damage lay underneath. Tim arrived back from locating more clothes for Stephanie (one of his button up shirts and a pair of leggings from the small unused pile of clothes Babs had, just in case), when he abruptly noticed a thin line just above her underwear, a scar that ran between her hip bones. 

_Oh. Baby fat._

Knowing he probably shouldn’t, he passed his fingers over the scar, and Stephanie, even in unconsciousness, shivered.

Stephanie’s stitches had managed to hold, and Leslie gave away how impressed she was. 

“A little messy but… very good for someone doing it on themselves. And at this age too…”

More and more of the abuse Stephanie had undergone began to click into place for Tim, as did the fact that she had seemingly dealt with it alone.

He realised that it maybe wasn’t a coincidence that two lonely teenagers had clung to each other as quickly as they had. He wanted to make things better for her, but he had let his anxiety about not seeing her again get in the way, and he had insisted on clinging to her like a lovesick puppy. He thought he could win Bruce’s challenge and get to spend the night with her, but he’d messed up. Now Stephanie was laying unconscious having lost between a quarter and a third of her blood, only avoiding going into shock by what seemed like pure determination on her part.

She was as tough as nails, and Tim felt increasingly in awe of her. With every piece of admiration he gained for Stephanie, it felt like a bit of his own self-worth was being ripped away in exchange.

Leslie gave Stephanie’s leg wound another clean but left the thread and stitches alone. Wrapping it up once more, she slipped on the leggings and got Tim to hold Stephanie up while she slid on the shirt, buttoning up fewer than half the buttons at the front. She indicated for Tim to move Stephanie to the more homely bedroom to rest up and keep warm. 

Once Leslie was satisfied, she went to leave. She looked back at Tim, who looked so tired and sad that she hesitated for a moment. 

“She’ll be okay, Tim, I promise. We’ll keep an eye on it and there shouldn’t be any complications. So long as she doesn’t go diving into that river at least.”

Her gentle tease did not uplift Tim, whose eyes began to water.

“Yeah.”

A hand ran through his hair, and he nearly twitched away from the easy affection. 

“Want me to stay, hon?”

“No, it’s alright. It’s really late… you’re probably tired. You’ll be alright driving back alone?”

“Course I will. I’ll be back before noon to check up on Miss Brown.”

He smiled with his mouth closed at her as she left. Upon remembering about the wet clothes in the washer, he moved them to the dryer, setting it off, and located a few bits of food for Stephanie to eat in the morning. He then moved back to the bedroom. 

“Oracle?”

_“Yeah Tim?”_

“You’ll let me know how Bruce gets on? If he saves Crystal?”

_“You’ll know when I know kiddo.”_

“Thanks. Also…” He trailed off whilst he tugged over a large armchair next to Stephanie’s bed. Obsessively, he checked her IV and blood bag once more.

_“Mm? Tim?”_

“Oh. Can you let Dick know what’s happened? I’d rather he heard it from you than Bruce.”

_“Sure thing. Go to sleep Tim. Try and rest.”_

Curling up on the soft fabric, Tim settled in for the night.

* * *

Stephanie woke up to a thumping headache and a stomach that felt as sore as when she woke up from her c-section. Her leg throbbed painfully too. But, she was alive, warm and clean. She looked for the time, and saw on a bedside table a digital alarm clock that read half past four. Rain had begun to pour outside, the sound of the water drops making comforting noises on the windows. The room was very old fashioned, wooden shutters blocked out street lights, and dark furniture decorated square space.

Tim had pulled over an armchair, and was curled up, face hidden in the crook of his arm that was thrown over his head. He looked fast asleep. She lifted an arm, then realised she was attached to both a blood bag and an IV. Both were practically empty, but she knew better than to rip out the tubes by herself.

“Tim?” She called instead.

He jolted awake, snapping into a straight sitting position wiping at his face like he’d been crying.

“Hey!” The faked cheeriness was obvious even to her. “How are you feeling? Got a headache?”

“A real killer.” She laughed gently. She looked pointedly at the drips. “Think they’re both done… can you take them out for me?”

Blinking at her calmness, he nodded and rose, turning on the lights to bring a gentle glow to the room. He stopped at the bedside table, noting the time with a frozen expression.

“Just gonna… wash my hands. I’ll be just a sec.”

“’Kay.”

He was gone for a few moments too long to just be washing his hands, and when he returned, he had a worried look on his face. He was carrying a bottle of water and some crackers, which she duly began taking sips of and nibbling on. Leaning over her, he gently, but with a smoothness that only came with practice, unhooked her from the IV and transfusion bags. He sat back down once more, but his eyes kept flitting between her and the clock, as if the time was something worrisome. They sat in silence for a while, until Stephanie had sipped a third of the bottle.

“Tim?”

His gaze froze on the clock, guilt ridden.

“I think you’ve been lying to me.”

His breath was sharp, like she’d leaned over and slapped him again.

“Yeah.”

“What about?”

“Why I was in the centre of town... Why I didn’t contact Batman earlier.”

She set the food and drink aside and tried to sit up. It was painful, and she grunted as she did it, but she managed. “Tim... I’m too weak at the moment to be angry so can you just... Tell me the truth now?”

His nostrils flared, but he nodded. Moving slowly, like he was sixty instead of sixteen, he perched himself on the edge of the bed.

“I want to be Robin.”

“As in Batman’s Robin?”

He nodded solemnly. This was something very important to him, she realised, something not to be mocked.

“Robin’s dead, I thought? He hasn’t been seen in years. I mean, the second one… the first is Nightwing right? Down in Bludhaven?”

“Yeah…but, I thought I could pick up where he left off. It took a lot of training, and patience, and pushing Batman and Nightwing but… tonight was my final test. I was to start at Wayne Tower, then avoid Batman for twelve hours. Stay out of sight from eight pm to eight am. But then there was the shooting, and you needed me. I thought I could help you and finish that final test. Kill two birds with one stone, to be crude.”

Stephanie had her hands clasped on her lap whilst Tim explained. She struggled to follow, but she was getting the gist, and her heart was sinking as he went on.

“And it’s so stupid in hindsight, like I could have driven you here, right at the start… I have my car parked at the hospital, but I knew he would be able to follow that easy, so I thought we could do it on public transport… but everything just went sideways and then I wanted to impress you after the bus and that was a mistake and…everything has just been one giant mistake.”

Stephanie’s breathing had frozen as Tim’s guilt came to the forefront, but she managed to squeeze out a simple, “That explains… a lot.”

“I screwed up. I’ve had… I’ve had this since the start.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small black ball. Gently he handed it to Stephanie, who ran her thumb across the smooth surface. “A tracker beacon. For if I got in over my head and I needed Batman to find me. I could have called for Batman the moment you got to the hospital. He would have known you were safe and gone straight after your mom. Instead he spent half the night chasing us.”

“Okay… but, Tim, why didn’t you?”

“I… I wanted to be the one to help you.”

She sniffed and sneered. “Wanted to be a big brave hero? Save the girl and all that?”

“…It wasn’t the most pragmatic choice, and it wasn’t the right choice, I know that now but… I wanted to prove to Batman I could do it. I could do what he asked of me and more.”

“Prove to _Batman_? Really?”

“Or to myself. Both. Probably. And now he’s been gone for four hours. Which… it shouldn’t take this long…” Tim stood up then and anxiously paced across the room. “I fucked up. And I’m _so_ sorry for it. Please believe me. I’m sorry.”

Stephanie had been patiently watching his confession, though as he went on her frown grew deeper, and her eyes grew wetter, until she could no longer bare to look at him. 

“I can’t… get my head wrapped round you. You want to help people, I believe that. You wanted to help me, not just because you want to help people in general, but also ‘cause you like me, in _that_ way. I get that… I mean, I like you too. A lot. I still do.” 

Some of the fear slid off Tim’s face, but he still looked heartbroken. He repeatedly rung his hands together, nervously tugging at the skin. 

Stephanie continued her thoughts, adding, “You don’t want people to hurt like you did when your parents were attacked… and this _is_ noble, if a bit self-centred… but I get that. You don’t think that I don't spend so much of my time thinking about what I will have to do to redeem the bad stuff my dad has done—”

“You’re not responsible for your dad.”

“Neither are you responsible for your parents. But Tim… you didn’t do what was best for me, you did the best for your own ego and made my safety fit around that… And my mom…”

“Tell me what to do.” With that Tim left the bed and knelt on the floor next to Stephanie. He grasped her hands, earnestly holding them, and tried to catch her eye.

“What?”

“Batman hasn’t come back yet… I’m frightened something has happened. I know what he would want, for me to sit out of the way, even if it means he gets hurt.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to forgive me and I want to chase after Batman, but neither matter. What I want doesn’t matter. Not now. You haven’t had a choice this whole night. You’ve got one now. Tell me what to do.”

Pausing only for a moment, Stephanie knew exactly what she wanted, what she had wanted right from the start.

“…Gear up with whatever is in this place and take me with you to my mom... I wanna bash my dad’s head in until he passes out.” She confessed quickly, and not entirely ashamed.

Tim nodded slowly, contemplating how to get her wish fulfilled. He thought of the batmobile, still waiting outside the building for its owner to come collect it. Tim smiled absentmindedly.

“I can do that.”

_“Eh?! No, you can’t!”_

Stephanie jumped a mile at Oracle’s interference and Tim looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m not asking! Batman is in trouble, isn’t he?”

_“…That’s not for you to fix!”_ Her voice was barked, though it was not entirely confident.

“We can help! Can Nightwing get here in time to help?”

_“He’s held up.”_ Oracle confessed. 

“He once said part of being Robin was disobeying orders. The jig is up, fine, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make like a Robin and spoil the bad guys plans. A little anarchy, it’s good for the soul.”

Stephanie laughed, approving of Tim’s optimism. Oracle on the other hand, sounded more defeated.

_“Tim –”_

“Is there anyone else on hand who can help?”

_“No…”_

“Then we’re going.”

Stephanie looked around the room, trying to see where the electronic voice was coming from.

“I promise I’ll stay in the car, if that helps any?” Stephanie voiced. “Not like I can really go jumping and running at the moment.”

_“This is a bad idea.”_

“Oh, for sure!” Tim leaned over Stephanie and buttoned up the rest of her shirt, to which she covered her mouth to avoid laughing too hard. He slid on her shoes with a little effort. “But I’m just doing what I’m told.” He whispered, then heaved her upwards. She curled around, once again resting on his back. A solid ache from her wait down was enough to make her grunt and inhale sharply every now and then, but it was tolerable. She was going to see this through.

“Let’s save my mom and the Batman.” She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, let's see how this works out. Stephanie is running on like a third of her blood and two nasty wounds but you know... she's actually made of self healing jelly. It's the only explanation of how she survives and carries on after things like being shot in the head or her torture. Dick doesn't manage that. He gets shot in the leg and wears a brace for months. He gets shot in the head and... well never mind.
> 
> Let's go save Batman! I'm sure nothing bad as indicated by the work tags will occur(!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Stephanie to the rescue! Driving the batmobile is hard.

“Don’t suppose there’s a spare Robin suit in here Oracle?” Asked Tim, rummaging through assorted shelves. There were some black clothes, armoured no doubt, but nothing red, yellow or green. 

_“No, I’m afraid you are not going to be able to save the day looking like a traffic cone.”_

Tim sighed and began stuffing a belt full of explosives, sharp things and sticky things. He looked for items that could, in general, cause the most chaos in a warehouse filled with men with guns and a (potentially) unconscious (dead? No. Not dead until there’s a body.) bat.

_“I still think this is a bad idea.”_

“Then Stephanie and I take full responsibility if it goes belly up.”

_“This is serious! You are not –”_

Tim angrily tugged a pair of shoes off the shelf.

“I swear if someone else says I’m not ready or I’m not taking this seriously… I can do it. I’ve been training for years! I can do it!”

_“I could lock you in here and that would be the end of it.”_

“Then I will start opening up my stitches Ms Disembodied Voice From Above.” Stephanie snarked, sat on the table aside Tim. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, a few pieces of hair too short to make it to the elastic fell cutely on her forehead and neck. 

Tim pulled a face. “Please don’t do that.”

“If she lets us out, I will not do that.”

Tim huffed, walking over to a counter. Stephanie leered as he stripped down and then geared up, assorted straps holding belts and containers in place. He really was preparing for whatever could be thrown at him. 

“Anything for me?”

“_You_… are staying in the car.”

“The batmobile? That car?”

“Yup.”

Rolling her shoulders, she mused on that thought for a moment.

“Can it shoot things?”

“Not with bullets but…”

“I can help from within the car though right?”

“Oh yeah, knowing Batman there’s probably a rocket launcher in that thing.” He realised what he’d said, and whirled round, trousers halfway up over his underwear. His eyes were wide, like he genuinely thought she would blow up half of the Narrows.

“Forget about that part.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, she nodded very seriously. “I promise I won’t blow anybody up.”

“The car can do lots of things, Oracle can help you help me. Right O?”

Oracle gave a very deep sigh that crackled oddly with her vocal alteration.

_“Yes. I can do that.”_

“Thanks O. You can help Steph, promise. Also, there isn’t much place safer than the Batmobile.”

“…I can live with that. But what about you?”

“I have more equipment on me than I ever have had before.” He reached over to a pocket and pulled out a small cylinder. When he flicked it in certain manner, it extended at both ends into a staff. It looked very good for smacking people with. Tim whirled it between his hands a few times, getting used to the weight of it.

“You know Nightwing says I’m better at the bo staff than him.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I can’t beat him hand to hand, and when his got his escrima sticks… but if we’re on equal standing… I can floor him.”

Stephanie smiled, fascinated by his tentative show of confidence. Tim snapped the staff and it reduced once more. He pocketed it in one of the pouches round his waist.

Muttering to himself, he paced around, looking for anything else to take. 

“Okay. Think that’s it. Let’s head out.”

He moved to Stephanie, getting ready to pick her up. She pushed him away and ignored his slight look of betrayal. Stephanie didn’t look like she was still made at him, so instead he was left confused. She kept her hand on his chest, a compelling touch. 

“At least put a mask on Tim.”

“Huh?” 

“You’re gonna go superheroing right? Superheroes need a mask!”

_“She’s right y’know.”_

“Thank you!” She turned her eyes upwards briefly, but returned them quickly to Tim’s, who had tensed at the two women ganging up on him. She squeezed his shirt, and he nodded, turning away to look for one.

Folding her arms, Stephanie laughed when Tim returned to her, looking somewhat more like a vigilante. 

“Now we’re ready.”

* * *

If Tim were honest with himself, his driving of the batmobile was a bit dodgy. He was used to driving his little red car, not a hulking tank that the batmobile was akin to. He was impressed with how roomy it was though. The steering wheel was less of a circle and more like what could be found in racing cars (or arcade games) which made Tim a little clunky with it trying to turn corners. He was trying to go fast, but the car definitely went faster than the average Ford, and despite her impatience, Stephanie was understanding of his nervy driving. 

“Batman’s never let you drive the batmobile before, huh?”

His eyes jutted away from the road, but a slight swerve made him jolt back to full attention. “Oh, oh no. Oracle is the only one who can do that. And she does it remotely. Don’t even think Nightwing’s…” They bumped into another lamppost as they turned a corner. “Whoops.”

“I’m sure the lamppost is more damaged than the car.”

“Oh sure, this thing could take a nuke blast and survive.”

“Really?”

“Well, no. Probably not.”

“Hmm.”

“It is pretty sturdy though.” Looking at the GPS on the dashboard, Tim saw they were getting nearer the warehouse.

“Hey Tim?”

“Yeah?”

Resting her head on the rest, she turned her neck around, playfully smiling. “When this is all done, you promise that you’ll take me out on a proper date?”

Tim’s mouth dropped open in a moment of shock, but he quickly composed himself. “Yes! Yes. Easiest decision of my life… yes.” He laughed, nearly whooping and punching the wheel in jubilation.

“Where’d you like to go? Dinner? We could do that.” She gently prodded.

“Bit fancy?” He said, peering into the cameras that showed the sides and rear of the vehicle. “I mean, do you want to get all dressed up?”

“No, no, not to start, but I know this really nice diner. The lady who runs it smokes like twenty packs a day, but they do really good burgers.”

“That sounds good. I can pick you up, drop you off, and if you feel up to it, we can just walk about, not worry about being jumped…”

“A proper date.” She smiled sweetly. “Listen, I’d give you my phone number _but_ I think it - along with my house keys and purse - are chilling at the bottom of Gotham river right now.”

“Oh. Well I can pay for dinner, if that takes a weight of your mind. A gentleman always pays on the first date… or something like that.”

Shifting to reassert a more comfortable position, Stephanie could only roll her eyes. “Wow.”

“Wow what?” Tim glanced sideways at her. She paused, realising he was being genuine, because that was all Tim seemed to be capable of being.

“You’re serious?” She asked, clutching her seat belt and leaning towards him. She ignored a sharp stab of pain that tugged on her stitches the doctor had done on her.

“Yes?”

At his stupefied tone, Stephanie huffed and muttered, “Of course you are. God, you are something else.”

She raked her eyes up and down at him, totally head over heels, and Tim blushed at her flirtatious tone and gaze. It was silent, but only for a moment before Stephanie began her prodding once more.

“So, you on Facebook? Or Twitter? Or whatever you bats and birds and oracles use? You don’t strike me as an Instagram fan.”

“Ha. No, not Instagram. The others sure, I’m not completely cut off from normal teenage things.”

“Well, what else do you like to do with your time?”

Tim tutted, flexing his fingers on the wheel. “This is getting into first date conversation territory.”

“Oh, come on! Tell me.” She urged, tapping his shoulder.

“Uhhh okay. I… like music? I mean, I play the guitar. Not well, but… well.”

“I used to play the piano.” She interjected gently.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can play together. See how much I’ve forgotten and see how well you _actually_ play.”

“Heh. That sounds perfect.”

“What else?”

“Oh. Um.” He sounded so reluctant to talk about himself, but Stephanie knew it wasn’t from a lack of anything to say. Tim would have stories for days. Stories about his parents, stories about Batman, about Nightwing, about his training. Stephanie wondered if it was just because he didn’t get the chance to talk about himself very often. 

“I skateboard!” The idea seemingly came to him abruptly, and he immediately seemed embarrassed the moment he uttered it. “I know that’s a bit lame nowadays and at my age –”

“Who told you that?”

“Um… my dad.”

“Huh, well, he’s wrong so there’s that.” She was flippant, tone brokering no argument. She didn’t know Tim’s father, but what she’d heard, she was not impressed. “It’s really cool, watching those guys in the park. I can’t do that. The balance you need…”

“I can teach you, when your stitches are out…” He said, a smile on his face at imagining the two of them at the skate park in Robinson.

“You can try boy wonder, no promises though.”

The nickname made his chest flood with warmth. “…Thanks Steph.”

“Well, you’re welcome. If you want, I can teach you to sew in exchange. There’s something not cool.”

“And who told you _that?_ You know when the apocalypse comes, you’ll be the one actually wearing functional clothes and making objects whilst I’ll just…lay down and freeze.”

She laughed sharply. “From what I’ve seen tonight Tim I don’t think you’ll go down easy when the zombies come for our brains.”

He shook his head and began to slow down. The smile slid off his face, and she recognized it as him slipping into superhero mode. She readjusted herself once more, bracing against the door and dashboard, not knowing where Tim was planning to plant the car. 

He leaned forward, peering through the screens. Jolting the car sideways, he slowed right down, and slid down one alley, barely wide enough for the batmobile to open its doors. He then dimmed the lights and cut the engine. The car remained on however, dozens of little knobs and buttons lighting up their faces like an airplane cockpit.

Tim took a deep, albeit unsteady breath, and turned to Stephanie.

“Serious talk.”

“Yup.”

“If I’m not out in half an hour, call the police. Tell them where you are, tell them to swamp the place. Do not go after me, or your mother, or Batman. With us falling off the bridge, they may think we popped it. I don’t know. I’ll get your mom out first. When your mom is out, call the police.”

She nodded, but her concerned look did not fade. “And what about Batman? What if he’s really badly hurt?”

Tim swallowed uncomfortably, his throat dry, and turned back to the wheel. He chewed his lip. “I might have to leave you behind, depending on how bad he is, and get him back home. You’ll be safe so long as you’re in the car. If it gets really bad, and the car starts to get swamped before the police arrive, Oracle will drive you away.”

“Towards the police?”

“Towards the police, yeah.”

A soft kiss on the cheek made him jump.

“Big brave superhero.” Her gentle teasing made him relax. Just a little. He turned and kissed her on the lips, a wet kiss that made a loud smack when they separated.

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

Tim smiled. “Oracle can you hear me?”

_“Loud and clear. I’ve connected you to the car too, so we both can keep track of you.”_

Tim nodded at the thought of an audio audience. He gulped once more, then smacked a button which opened the roof of the car. He climbed up, fired a grappling gun up to the roof, and shot away. The car roof swiftly sealed once more, with a definite suction noise sealing out external air.

Stephanie sat alone in the silence and the low light, her stomach gurgling increasingly with dread. This was going to be a long thirty—

_“Right madam, I need you to move over to the driver’s seat.”_

“Huh?” She gripped the sides of her seat tight, as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Oracle did not seem totally amused.

_“You wanted to help right?”_

“Yes…?”

_“Then you can help by getting Tim a map of the building. The car has a sort of sonar. It can create a 3D map depending on what it bounces off.”_

“Oh. Wow.”

_“Hop over, come on.”_

Stephanie did as she was bid, hissing in pain as she shuffled her bum over the other seat. She swung her legs round, and fastened herself back in. She grinned, and excitedly grabbed the steering. 

“Oh, wow. I’m in the driver’s seat of the batmobile!”

_“Yeah, yeah but you’re not driving anywhere. Upper left, a row of four buttons, near the left window. See them?”_

Leaning forward, she nodded and sounded off with a half-hearted, “Yes?”

“Hit the one of the left, hold for three seconds.”

She did just that. She felt a high-pitched ring go through her ears, and the car shuddered.

_“Do it three more times.”_

“Do you get the image wherever you are?” She asked as she pressed the button.

_“I do. Can see there’s fifteen bodies in there. You two and Batman took out a few on your city travels.”_

“Is Batman in there?”

_“Can’t say for certain, it doesn’t give a clear enough picture. It’ll help Tim know what way to enter, so thank you Stephanie.”_

“You’re welcome.” She said, tone genuinely in its gratitude. 

Tim’s connection crackled on.

“Going in now. See if she can get the EMP to go off. It’ll cut off my communications, but the other tech should still work. It’ll mess with their stuff real good.”

_“Be careful Tim.”_

“Promise.”

Stephanie leaned forward, as if she could somehow spot Tim and where he was in the building. All she could see was a brick wall, and no windows or light. 

“Oracle? How do I set off an EMP?”

_“One sec…”_ An awkward pause, then Oracle picked up the line once more_. “By the gear stick, there’s a circle of smaller buttons with a big button in the middle?”_

“Hit the big button?”

_“No. Do not hit the big button.”_

“What’s the big button do?”

_“Don’t touch it.”_

“What can I touch?”

“Bottom right. Hit once, no more than one second. It’s pretty fierce and will knock out a block if you hold it too long.”

Gulping, she pressed it firmly. The resulting noise from the car made her jump and squeak. Her stitches complained brutally from her sudden movement, and she clutched at her side, trying to control her breathing.

“Did it work?” She managed to ask.

_“Tim’s no longer hearing me, so yes. Well done, Stephanie.”_

“…Welcome.” This time her response was quieter. Neither women sounded too happy about the fact that Tim was well and truly alone. 

Stephanie attempted to make conversation with the voice above, to distract herself.

“You work for Batman?”

_“Ahem. With Batman.”_

“Oh. That’s cool. How…how did you enter…that…profession?”

_“Long story.”_

“I have time?”

_“Uh-uh Stephanie. Just… think of me as mission control.” _A pause, then a gentler,_ “Your wounds, they feel okay?”_

“They hurt. But that’s fine. I’d rather feel the pain than not. Something would really be wrong then, huh?” She laughed shakily.

There was no response.

“Oracle?”

Gun fire sounded off then, and Stephanie gasped in fear. 

_“Sit tight.”_

There was no other noises loud enough to be heard in the car through the brick walls, so Stephanie listened as the sounds got louder and quieter, seemingly at random. Sometimes it was obvious that multiple shots from multiple guns were being fired, other times it seemed like just the one. 

The moment the gunfire fell quiet, she panicked.

“I have to help.”

_“How? You’ve been told. Sit tight.”_

“Oh God.” She fell forward, head smacking off the wheel.

The car lit up then, bright as it had when Tim had been driving.

_“Stephanie turn the car off.”_

“Sorry, sorry I—” She began frantically, foolishly, pressing assorted buttons. An explosion rang out from the roof of the car with such force that the wall the car was pressed against caved in. The fearsome blast led to two men on the other side being knocked out with the momentum of the bricks hitting them. She couldn’t see Tim, but one man and one woman saw the batmobile and seemed to enter an absolute rage at the sight of it. They turned from whatever they were shooting at (Tim? Mom?) and began firing at the car. Stephanie flinched at the sounds and the impact of the bullets on the windshield, but of course the material was tougher than any shotgun, and they bounced off with no damage to the screen.

One of them gave an over the top yell, as if he were in a war movie, but neither person moved.

Something distracted them all then. Stephanie couldn’t see what was going on inside, but she could hear. A horrid screech, one from a man, cut off quickly and sharply. 

“What was that?” Stephanie asked, monotone but frightened.

_“Uhhhhh…”_

“Oracle, hey, what just happened? Can you see?”

The two people watched as something (someone?) was flung across the room. The lady’s mouth dropped open in disgust. Stephanie blinked, and looked down at the wheel of the car.

_“It…well. Everything’s fine.”_ Oracle sounded just like Tim did when they were in the stolen car, and Stephanie by this point had learned her lesson, and did not believe anything was fine for one moment.

The mob pair slowly returned their gaze to the car, as if deciding they had better chances against it than whatever was on the other side of the wall. 

They began to run at the batmobile, aiming to swamp it. If they managed to get the door open, Stephanie wouldn’t be able to fight back, she was practically immobile. Panic took over.

“Oh my God, what do I do?”

_“Stephanie—”_

“What do I do what do I do.”

_“Steph—”_ The man began to incessantly smash his gun down on the windshield, trying to break in, whilst the woman moved the driver’s side, trying to bust the door. They couldn’t see in, thanks to the shaded windows, but that didn’t stop their faces being uncomfortably close to Stephanie’s. _“It’s fine, there’s no way they can get in.”_ Oracle was trying to be reassuring, but Stephanie remained unconvinced, and leaned back further into the driver’s seat.

With a thunderous crack, the man managed to severely damage the front screen, and Stephanie squealed like a six-year-old. He seemed a man possessed and laughed maniacally like he was a genuine supervillain. Stephanie thought in brief flash of contempt that he was just kind of pathetic.

Dangerous though, and nearly cracking his way in.

_“Oh, okay, okay, okay, okay, no worries.”_ Oracle somehow did not seem to be exhibiting the right level of fear, if anything she seemed very blasé, thinking on the go. "_Hit that big centre button.” _

“The one you told me not to—”

_“Smack it!”_

With her fist Stephanie slapped it harder than probably necessary, but she was running on adrenaline at that point and was just doing as she was told with extra gusto. Both mobsters were thrown back with an aggressive crackle. The landed on the ground, one further up the alley, one being thrown back into the warehouse. They stayed on the ground.

“Oh wow.”

_“Tasers. They’ll be fine. Maybe peed themselves a little.” _Oracle sounded entirely too pleased at the thought.

“…I threw up on myself earlier.” Stephanie offered dumbly. Oracle actually laughed.

_“You’re not having a great night are you?”_

“I’ve… had better.”

Stephanie reached out for the gear shift, and lowered her feet to the pedals. There were two, hopefully one to go forward and one to brake. She moved the gear shift up, and tentatively put her foot down, wanting to enter the warehouse.

_"No, wait!"_

The car shot forward through the hole in the wall uncontrollably, like it was her first-time driving a stick shift 1990s Toyota. Bad enough and embarrassing enough, if not for the fact that her mother had come running out towards the hole in the wall the moment Stephanie jerked forward. Crystal bounced off the car with a loud _humph_ and fell to the floor. Stephanie stared in abject horror as her mother wheezed and rolled around on the ground. She was not hurt too badly, just in shock at being smacked by the _batmobile_ more than anything, but that didn’t stop Stephanie from crying out.

“Oh God. I just ran over my mom!”

_“…Wow you are having a terrible night.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next we see what Tim got up to in the warehouse. And where on earth is Arthur?
> 
> Nearly there! Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

After exiting the car, Tim had shot up to the neighbouring warehouse, looking down. There was an obvious hole in the roof where Bruce most likely had crashed through. The rain and wind had gotten worse since they had set off and it was a grim early morning in Gotham.

“Oracle, what happened to Batman? Do you know?”

_“We made a mistake. We’d assumed that with the number of people out looking for you two, the numbers within the warehouse would be pretty manageable. Ibanescu has more men behind him than we thought.”_

“He’d have taken down a few first right, though? Before? He would have gone down fighting.”

Oracle give no indication that she had heard Tim.

_“We need a view of the building, I’ll see what the Batmobile can do.”_

Tim frowned to himself, finding the entire situation increasingly suspect, but said nothing. He waited patiently whilst Barbara taught Stephanie how to use parts of the car. Barbara had hooked their audio channels together, so he kept silent listening to Barbara’s instructions and Stephanie’s general confusion. He felt a slight ringing in his ears as he felt the sonar pass through him multiple times.

“Do you get the image wherever you are?” Stephanie asked from inside the car.

_“I do. Can see there’s about fifteen bodies in there. You two and Batman took out a few on your city travels.”_

“Is Batman in there?” She asked.

_“Can’t say for certain, it doesn’t give a clear enough picture. It’ll help Tim know what way to enter, so thank you Stephanie.”_

“You’re welcome.”

Three men on the top floor, ten on the ground, congregated in two groups. Two further back and off to the side than the others. Possibly Bruce and Crystal, though he wouldn’t know until he crashed in. Sucking in air between his Tim, Tim clambered over to the hole in the roof and tentatively peered down. He had to catch them off guard somehow… He sighed, then spoke to Oracle.

“Going in now. See if she can get the EMP to go off. It’ll cut off my communications, but the other tech should still work. It’ll mess with their stuff real good.”

_“Be careful Tim.”_

“Promise.”

He leaned over the edge of the hole and grabbed hold of the roof beams that were still intact and could support his weight. He remained up high, creaking wood giving away his position, but the building was so old, and the weather was so bad that the entire structure was creaking regardless. In his ear, he heard Stephanie ask,

“Oracle? How do I set off an EMP?”

_“One sec… By the gear stick, there’s a circle of smaller buttons with a big button in the middle?”_

“Hit the big button?”

_“No. Do not hit the big button.”_

“What’s the big button do?”

_“Don’t touch it.”_

Tim snorted a laugh and struggled to contain it. He moved overhead of one of the three men, waiting for Stephanie to mess with their electronics.

“What can I touch?”

_“Bottom right. Hit once, no more than one second. It’s pretty fierce and will knock out a block if you hold it too long.”_

Tim turned off his earpiece, knowing it would give a firecracker snap if he left it on, and waited.

Sparks lit up from the inside of the men’s jackets and trousers with their phone’s sparking off, and in one instance a fancy looking gun one man held fizzed so violently he dropped it with a comical squeal, arm almost spasming from the jolt. 

Looking at their disorientation, Tim dropped down on one gangster. The force of his weight was enough to make the man’s head ricochet off the wooden floorboards. Before the other two had managed to turn around, Tim fiercely wacked one, then the other, with his bo staff. The three men fell to the ground, out of action.

Easy peasy.

Pleased with himself, Tim made his way across the room, heading for the stairs. Poking his head down, he could see the main hall of the warehouse.

The group of ten was not necessarily what they appeared. Ibanescu stood in the centre of three men and one woman who had congregated to the centre of the room. He was wearing a white suit and holding a comically large gun. To Tim he looked like a Black Mask wannabe. Further up the hall, closer to Tim, was Crystal. She seemed awake, albeit exhausted, but also seemed to be in pain, emotional and physical. Knowing she’d been sat on the cold floor for hours by this point, hands bound uncomfortably behind her, and denied her pain medication she was dependent on, Tim frowned and gripped the stair rail tighter in sympathy. She was sat behind Batman, who to Tim looked unconscious rather than dead. Thankfully.

A pile of five unconscious bodies had been moved to one corner, so Bruce had managed to take out a few before one of them had managed to bonk him hard enough on the cowl to make him plonk to the floor. Tim breathed a silent thank you to Bruce. Five was more manageable.

But why hadn’t they killed Bruce? They must have thought Stephanie had died falling off that bridge, but maybe they were hoping beyond hope that Arthur Brown would show up with the promised money, probably wanted to make a grand spectacle of it all. 

Tim checked the roof of the room, seeing if there was another place he could spring off, but nothing suited. He huffed to himself, becoming impatient with his delays. The quicker he moved in, the faster it would be over… one way or another.

Well, no time like the present.

Tim threw a smoke bomb down and followed it quickly by the small bombs that he had accidentally set off nearly twelve hours ago, before he’d left the Batcave. The bright light, loud noise, fog and heat from the bombs was enough to scatter the men. Tim jumped down, using the smog as cover from the ensuing gun fire, and began to kick, punch and strike as hard and fluently as he could. Occasionally, he’d feel the whizz of a bullet shoot by, making him twitch his head instinctively away from the noise, but otherwise no-one managed to land a punch on him. A few members slid away, out of the smoke and into clearer air, but Tim remained within, out of sight. He ran backwards and slid over to Crystal and Bruce. She had managed to curl herself over Bruce like a shield, proving her protective instinct was stronger than her self-preservation. Maybe that was where Stephanie picked hers up from. 

Ibanescu called for people to gather round him, his voice nasal and high pitched with fright, and wait for the smoke to clear.

Tim moved towards Bruce to cut through the binding that held his wrists and legs together, Crystal very reluctantly moved back once she realised what Tim was doing. Once the material scraps fell the floor, Tim gestured for her to turn.

She did, but also began asking him, “You’re with him?”

“I am.” With her wrists free, Crystal brought them around to her front, grimacing at the red and damaged skin round her wrists, dried blood and dirty wounds. A sudden thought came to her, and she whirled around and grabbed Tim’s shoulder. Tim groaned at how fiercely she held on, but he did not let go of Batman’s cowl in his attempts to awaken him.

“My daughter –”

“She’s outside in the batmobile. She’s been shot a couple of times but she’s fine. I promise she’s safe and she’s helping me right now. Sit tight until it’s over. I don’t want anymore of you getting caught in the crossfire.”

“She’s alive?”

“She –”

A large explosion ripped a gaping hole in the building. Crystal shrieked whilst Tim floundered at the unexpected interruption. Bruce groaned with the injection Tim had given him waking him out of his temporary slumber.

“Batman, hurry up, wake up…” Tim shook Bruce incessantly. Bruce grunted again, then went to raise himself off the floor.

Somebody grabbed Tim from behind and pulled him up and away from Crystal, who shrieked in alarm. Tim saw that there were two members still standing after his attack and the imploding wall, plus Ibanescu himself, and the man holding Tim. Ibanescu had his gun aimed at the pair, and in a moment of utter panic, he fired the gun, ideally aiming for Tim’s head. The man who held Tim seemed to realise what was going to happen to him and cried out, only for it to be cut off sharply and violently.

Tim froze, limbs still splayed and uncoordinated from being picked up off the floor.

_No... way._

The shell went wide and missed Tim, who was too short for the shot, and Tim was suddenly faced with carrying a very heavy corpse on his back. Screeching and generally freaking out, he flipped the body over, thrusting it upwards to rest on one of the numerous hanging platforms used for moving cargo. Tim hadn’t intended to fling it across the room, but his adrenaline and flip had given the body enough momentum to reach a nice height. The upper torso hung off the platform, dripping onto the floor below.

"Oh. Oh crap."

Tim felt chunks of bone and tissue slide of his back and refused to look at the corpse. He turned around to glare the gangster. The two remaining members stared at the body, then to Tim, then to the back of Ibanescu. Looking briefly at each other, the man and woman decided the batmobile was an easier target, and probably safer from stray shells, and ran out to beat their way in. 

“Stephanie!” Tim cried out, and went to follow, but Ibanescu raised his gun, and Tim froze. He wouldn’t miss again.

“Enough!” The gangster shouted. Crystal flinched and was unable to stop staring towards the ceiling at the dead man. She began crying. Tim moved back to shield her and a still struggling Batman. He let Ibanescu rant. “Arthur swindled me out of such a sum I couldn’t get the last import… and he’s such a coward he wouldn’t show up to save his wife or avenge his daughter! Fuck it, fuck him, and fuck you and the Bat… this whole night has been spoiled!”

It seemed to Tim that Ibanescu had a higher opinion of Arthur Brown than was probably warranted. He seemed deeply shocked and disappointed (and angry) that the man had not showed up for the sake of his family. Maybe Arthur was smarter (and crueller) than anyone gave him credit for. Tim glanced around the room, trying to find a way to get the gun out of the other man’s grip.

A tasered mobster was thrown back into the warehouse. Tim’s mouth dropped open in pleasant surprise. Stephanie had managed to activate the defence system. When Ibanescu was distracted by the collapsed figure, a batarang whizzed over Tim’s shoulder and buried itself into Ibansecu’s shoulder. Bruce had recovered enough to disarm the threat to Tim. Ibanescu cried out, arm dropping the gun and swinging uselessly. It allowed Tim to rush forward and body slam the man, knocking him to the floor and out cold.

There was a moment of silence, then Tim whooped. “I did it!”

A familiar grunt behind him brought the jubilation to a cold close. Crystal stumbled to her feet, muttering about Stephanie. Slowing his breathing down, Tim rolled over the unconscious man and went to bind him up. He heard the crinkle of Batman’s cape as Bruce rose up, but Tim determinedly ignored him, childishly delaying the inevitable heartbreak. 

Tim had just managed to handcuff Ibanescu when Crystal went to run out of the warehouse. 

“Wait!” Tim yelled, but he could only watch at the batmobile jerked amateurly into the building, knocking Crystal back onto the floor. “Ah! No, Mrs Brown!” Tim stumbled up, tripping over the man on the floor, and returned to pinning the body down.

Crystal waved a reassuring hand upwards. “Okay… I’m okay. Woo!” She huffed, rolling around on the floor, gaining momentum to push herself back up.

Tim could only stare at the strange older woman, realising more and more where Stephanie got her ability to seemingly brush off things that would cripple another. Tim got the feeling that Crystal Brown was stronger than Stephanie gave her mother credit for, but then again, he was only judging from ten minutes of interaction. The potential was there, maybe, but perhaps it had been beaten down after decades of a toxic husband. Tim felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Batman kneeling down next to him, moving to Tim’s level.

“You can get off him now, I’ll take it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, you’ve done enough.”

His tone, as always, was impossible to decipher. Tim felt drops of blood fall on the floor off his hair and clothes, and decided Bruce meant it derisively. Someone had died because of him. He slid off an unconscious Ibanescu, despondent. 

“Wait…” He said, as Bruce went to move all the unconscious people into one easy to arrest pile. Bruce paused expectantly. “What happened? You’ve beaten more guys than this. They didn’t have a clue what they were doing? None of them did…”

Batman looked over to the knocked over mother and sighed. “Crystal was... not the most well behaved hostage.”

It wasn’t much of an excuse, but having hung around her daughter for ten hours, Tim nodded in solid empathy.

Stephanie meanwhile has started to rock in horror in her seat, and surveyed the damage she’d caused by blowing open a hole in as structurally unsound building. No-one was left standing, aside from Tim, who was crouched over a suited man next to a conscious Batman. 

Her mother thrust a hand on the hood of the batmobile, and wailed a cry as she pulled herself upwards, seemingly aware that her daughter was inside it, and Stephanie burst into tears. Unbuckling in a rush, she ignored the restricting pain of her stomach, and kicked the door open. She fell out of the car, and pulled herself off the cold concrete floor.

“Mom! Mom!” She cried out, clinging to bonnet and waving Crystal over.

Crystal, who looked none the worse for wear, aside from a bruised neck and wrists and a tear stained face, rushed over, careening into her daughter, disturbing the sore leg and gut. Despite the pain, Stephanie’s tears were ones of a relief so sharp it did not compare to the pain of being shot. Her mom was safe.

“They told me you were shot and fell!”

“No that definitely happened. I’m alive though. Somehow.” Stephanie voice was watery and fragile, but she still managed to joke to her mother, who pressed aggressive kisses to her face.

She looked over her mom’s shoulder, watching Batman and Tim converse. She could not see either of the men’s faces. She couldn’t tell how the fight had gone, aside from the fact that they had won. She couldn’t see if Batman was well, if Tim was unharmed, or if the mood was light or angry and somber. 

Raising her eyes, she saw a body lying further up on a hanging platform. Its head was missing.

Stephanie froze in her mother’s arms. Was that where the screech had come from?

“Mom…who’s body is that?”

“Oh.” Her mother began crying hysterically. “Oh God. I’m going to need therapy. Some gangster your father had gotten in trouble with… Arthur never showed. He never…”

Police sirens sounded off in the distance, and Tim approached the couple. Stephanie blinked at the dark blood running down his skin.

“You’re hurt?!” She moved from her mother and cradled Tim’s cheek, to which he smiled bashfully and shook his head. He reached up and took her hand in his, squeezing tight.

“No… not mine. Don’t worry, not a scratch on me… Better than him I guess…” His smiled turned sad and the sirens grew louder. 

“Did you…?”

Even the possibility of Tim killing someone was enough to make his flush red. “No! No. God no. Ibanescu was aiming for me but missed…”

“Oh. Okay… poor guy.”

Crystal rolled her eyes at Stephanie’s simple but well meaning sentiment and clung to her daughter’s side, unwilling to let go. Tim heard Bruce moving towards the car, and knew the night was over.

“We have to… we have to go now.”

Stephanie’s blinked, realising what this meant, and frantically turned to her mother. “Mom, mommy, this is the boy who saved me right at the start near the pharmacy, kept me safe all night.” Stephanie smiled, eyes wet, feeling very fragile and desperate for her mother to understand what Tim had done for her. She spoke quickly and breathlessly, afraid that Tim would leave before she could explain it all.

Crystal looked at Tim suspiciously and said nothing. Taking a step away, Tim spoke, practically reading Crystal’s thoughts.

“Not true, your bullet wounds and fall off the bridge say otherwise.”

Stephanie frowned and tugged on Tim’s hand urgently, not wanting him to go. “Remember your promise okay?”

He laughed very gently. “Yup, yup.”

“The police will take it from here.” Said Batman, storming up to the trio. He loomed over the three of them, a solid foot taller than Crystal, and several inches more than Stephanie and Tim. He seemed okay but did not offer any explanation for what had happened on the initial rescue attempt. Stephanie supposed she would have to hear it from her mother. He offered as parting words, “I’m sorry this happened to you both.” 

His words were kind, but his tone was not, and Stephanie suddenly felt like defending Tim.

“I asked him to stay with me. I couldn’t have gotten through tonight without him.”

“…I know.”

“I’m okay because of him.”

Batman said nothing and went to leave. Stephanie blurted out, “And you? Are you okay?”

Despite the cowl covering most of his face, Stephanie recognized the look of mortification when she saw it. He wasn’t expecting that question, and refused to answer her. Maybe he took it as her demeaning him, when in fact she was being genuine.

Huh. Tim’s behaviour was rubbing off on her.

And then he left, entering the car. The other door was opened, a clear signal for Tim to enter as well. Tim did as he bid and after one last tight squeeze, and a love sick smile, let go of Stephanie’s hand. She returned to her mother’s embrace and watched as the car drove away more smoothly than her or Tim’s attempts to control the vehicle. She stepped out of the building, wanting to watch him go, through the hole she had punched through. Only as she reached the alley she was met by four cars and two vans pulling up. Several armed police came out, guns already held upwards.

Instinctively, both Stephanie and Crystal raised their arms. They had dealt with the police enough times in their lifetime to know what to expect. 

“It’s safe!” Crystal yelled across the way, “They’re all subdued… though one…”

They were gestured to enter the squad car, ready to be driven back to the police station. 

Stephanie sat down with a gasp, her gut aching something awful. She leaned down and grasped her thigh, massaging the muscle reassuringly. Crystal nervously put on her seatbelt and began rubbing her wrists, smearing drying blood on her hands and forearms. She seemed more focused than Stephanie, and managed to talk to the police officers without sounding like a hysterical woman. It must have been the ER nurse in her kicking in.

Looking out the window as they began to be driven away, Stephanie could see the sun was beginning to rise. She was exhausted, seriously injured and feeling remarkably lost. Her mother breathed a final sigh of relief at finally being safe. They probably weren’t going to given much chance to rest, and would have to recount what had transpired in the past twelve hours.

As they drove through Gotham, Crystal leaned over to her daughter’s side, resting her head on Stephanie’s shoulder. Reaching up, Stephanie buried her fingers in her mother’s hair, giving her the comfort she needed after a night of horror.

“Dad never showed.” Stephanie finally spoke.

“No. The money he stole… I don’t know what he was thinking. Stealing from a human trafficker, like two wrongs make a right? Or was he not thinking at all? He never came. But he knew. They rang him. I heard their conversation…”

“Maybe he knew if he showed up, we wouldn’t have made it.”

“Hoping for Batman to save us first?”

“And he did.”

“Hmph. That boy…”

Stephanie sighed happily. “You’d like him.”

“Does he have a name?”

Stephanie continued to stare at the daybreak, trusting Tim to keep his promise. “Robin. I hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy did you also catch the spoiler reference? One more chapter to go, Tim needs his bollocking and to keep his promises. If he's allowed to that is. Kudos and comment if you liked it, plus a giant thank you very much for all the comments and likes and bookmarks and everything so far. I'll see you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim discovers Bruce's final decision regarding Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Let's get straight to it hmm?

Tim hadn’t felt so close to crying since his mom’s death and dad’s coma. He sat, silent and despondent, staring at his knees, trying very hard to not start blubbering.

Batman, as always, was a stone pillar next to him. Saying nothing, making no noise, not even breathing for all Tim knew. He was brooding as much as Tim was.

He had failed the test. Again. But more than that, he had endangered a mother and daughter, and allowed a man to have been killed.

Head blown off. What a way to go.

Dick had warned him once, that not stepping in front of a bullet was not the same as firing the gun. Dick spoke as if he knew from first-hand experience. Tim couldn’t hold himself responsible for every injury and death that occurred, it would drive him insane with guilt, but still, Tim wondered what would have happened if he had done what he was supposed to.

Stephanie wouldn’t have gotten shot and fallen off the bridge for one thing.

All that was bad enough, but when Bruce said that he had found Tim just before he had run into Stephanie, Tim began to choke on his tears. He hadn’t even managed an hour. He had failed in every possible way.

He coughed in a lame attempt to cover up his unsteady breathing and to force air down his constricted throat. Batman finally took pity on him and spoke quietly once more. Thanking every god in every possible form, he didn’t sound angry.

“We’ll get back to the cave, Alfred will give you the once over, then I want you to go home. We’ll talk properly next weekend. Your father will be expecting you home soon. I’ll find Arthur Brown this week without you in the cave.”

Nope. The disappointed tone was worse. What Bruce was saying was reasonable, but Tim really didn’t want to sit around waiting to hear that Robin was a dead pipe dream.

“What time?” Tim asked. Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Tim interrupted before he could reply. His nerves were getting to him. “I’ll come around at three. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Bruce pressed his lips together and said nothing. Tim took that as a _fine_.

He managed to hold it together for Alfred to give him the metaphorical thumbs up. Changing into clean clothes, Tim waited whilst Bruce was checked and promptly sent straight to bed to rest. Tim rummaged through his bag, eating food he’d purchased at the corner store, and turned his phone back on. There were no messages from either Ives nor his father, so Tim guessed his lie had been a success. Alfred offered to drive Tim to his car in town, ready for Tim to drive back _again_ to his father’s, and pretend he’d had a nice evening with Ives.

Sometimes lying to his father was easy. This was not going to be one of those times. Standing in the car park, Alfred placed a gentle hand on Tim’s shoulder, sympathetically – practically – saying goodbye and sorry. Tim smiled and shrugged it off. He got in his car and watched as Alfred left. The weather was still awful, grey and wet and chiller than it had been yesterday. It seemed to match his mood.

Head falling forward, Tim banged his temple against the steering wheel of the car, cursing himself for several hard years work, effort and dreams gone down the drain.

For the sake of a girl.

Tim felt no resentment at Stephanie. Not for one moment did he think anything that had happened last night was her fault. No, honestly, Tim knew where the fault lay.

Driving home was slow and painful. Traffic was bad and the weather was worse. By the time he got home, he just wanted to crash into bed and not emerge for the next week. But no, Monday was just around the corner, he had a week of school to get through. Maybe it would be easier, without training in the evening. Without anything to work towards.

Plonking up the steps to the front door, and desperate to distract himself from the heartbreak, Tim wondered how he could go about getting in contact with Stephanie. Opening and closing the front door, Tim somewhat resembled a drowned puppy.

“Tim?” He heard his father call from the living room. Steeling himself, Tim took off his shoes, and tried to smile.

“Hey dad.”

His father was bent over the coffee table, assorted papers and what looked like bills in his hand. Dana was probably working with a client in town. 

“You just back?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m a bit soaked and shattered. Didn’t get much sleep.”

“You head out at all with Ives?”

“Um, just for a second, picked up some food and stuff. Played games mostly.”

His father nodded, then looked away, satisfied with Tim’s succinct responses and ready to return to his work. 

“Well go ahead and take a nap if you want. It’s still early.”

“’Kay.” 

Tim went to go up the stairs, then paused for a moment and turned back. He sat on the couch next to his father, who blinked owlishly at his son. They so rarely spoke, but even Jack recognized the solemnness in his son’s posture. 

“Dad…how did you and mom meet?”

Jack was not expecting this question. He swallowed uncomfortably and put down the papers.

“We met through work. There’s not really a grand story to tell.”

“But how quick did you know? That you…liked her.”

Jack frowned, like he knew he wasn’t able to give the answer Tim wanted to hear. A broken marriage close to divorce before Janet’s death did not make a romantic story. “Tim… I don’t know. Honestly, I never really thought about it. Why? What’s brought this up?”

Telling half-truths was than flat out lies, so Tim twisted his hands and tried not to burn red from embarrassment.

“When I was out yesterday, I ran into a girl.”

That made Jack interested, he puffed out his chest and leaned back against the sofa, smirking knowingly and ready to needle Tim.

“Oh? And you think you’re head over heels?”

“After less than a day? Yeah, a little.”

Jack smiled kindly. “Everyone’s different Tim. Just because your mother and I didn’t…” His discomfort returned, like he wasn’t willing to lay bare his relationship with Janet to Tim. He broke off abruptly, then smiled once more, but this time it struck Tim as slightly patronising. “Doesn’t matter. You’re only sixteen Tim. Got your whole life ahead of you.”

Tim said nothing, trying not to start crying again. What he had wanted and planned for his life to be was no longer an option. A whole life of what? Taking up the family business? He felt the corners of his mouth turn down, and he struggled to neutralise his expression. Jack watched him with some concern.

“I guess so. Still, you’d like her. I think. She’s… pretty sharp.”

“She have a name?”

“Stephanie.”

As he spoke, Tim froze, remembering he had his phone. Pulling it out, he went to Facebook, and tried a search to see if she would come up. He found her not too far down, smiling beatifically in a cheesy grin for the camera. She was sitting at a dining table, probably at her school. A girl with bright blue hair was sat next to her, resting her head on Stephanie’s shoulder. The rest of her profile was private. Jack tilted his head as he looked, musing on whether or not he liked the name or the face. Abruptly ashamed for some reason, Tim decided to leave before the conversation could get derailed and Jack could give an unsolicited opinion. 

“Anyway,” Tim stood up, leaving behind a wet patch on the sofa from his wet jeans and jacket. “I’m gonna go nap. See you later.” 

Glad for the awkward conversation to be over, Jack waved Tim off silently and returned to his work.

Slipping into his room, Tim pulled out his phone once more. Staring at the smiling Stephanie, he hesitated only for a moment, then clicked to send her a friend request. He threw his phone onto his bed and tugged his shirt off to change into his pyjamas, exhaustion quickly making him feel a bit dead on his feet. Crawling into bed with wet hair, he sighed sadly. He truly didn’t want to face the next week. He buried his face into the pillow, and his chest began to shake with unspilt tears.

An aggressive _buzz buzz _on his phone pulled him away from despair long enough to activate his home screen.

A notification lit up before his eyes – Stephanie had accepted his request. 

Tim didn’t know he was doing it, but he smiled at his phone, and for a moment the disappointment and crushed dreams vanished.

When one door closes…

* * *

“Is it okay that we talk out here?”

Bruce, who had opened the front door for Tim, paused, but nodded. Tim was being cowardly, refusing to go all the way downstairs only to do a walk of shame back up and off the estate. Best to get it done over and quickly, like ripping off a bandage, but Tim thought it more akin to hacking off a leg. 

Shutting the door firmly behind him, Bruce and Tim sat on the stairs to the entrance of Wayne Manor. Tim placed his skateboard down in between them, to act as a literal and even metaphorical shield from anything that would come his way during the awful conversation. The sun was out, for once, and it was warm enough to not need a jacket. The two sat silent for a moment, watching the gravel path up the hill. The wind blew gently, disturbing the taller grass.

Tim waited for the anvil to drop.

“Arthur Brown was hidden over in Gotham Village, near the university campus. He’s back in police custody. Said he was doing the world a favour, stealing the money from human traffickers, said he did nothing wrong. His wife and daughter are going to have to testify about what happened to them. I trust Stephanie won’t reveal who helped her last week?”

“She hasn’t so far, no.”

“Hmph. You did well Tim, given what you had to work with.”

Tim stared at Bruce from the corner of his eyes, keeping his face turned forward, and expression caught between incredulous and anxious.

“I doubt that.”

“Look, there are two aspects to last week. The first, the test, you failed miserably. I told you not to linger at the starting point, which you proceeded to do. I don’t know if Dick told you that disobeying my advice is a good idea, but it wasn’t. You were told, you didn’t listen, and it backfired.”

This was what Tim had been expecting. A shopping list of what he had done wrong.

“That would have been that, except I think meeting Stephanie changed everything.”

Tim slowly turned his head towards Bruce, who was in return not looking at Tim. The kindlings of hope sparked. 

“You tired to balance the test with looking out for a civilian hunted by the mob. I understand why you did what you did. It was all for moot considering you had already failed by that point-”

_Ouch._

“But you protected her, saved the mother and made a significant dent on one of Gotham’s mob groups. Any other night that would have been a success. But you failed the primary objective.”

Tim took the stillness after Bruce’s speech as his cue to defend himself, but he didn’t grab it. “I could have activated the beacon you gave me. She could have been safe with you the entire time.”

“And I still would have failed at the warehouse. Except there may have been more of them there instead of arrested on the bridge and corner shops. You came, you won.”

“It was Steph’s idea… And she took out loads of people along the way.”

“Would she have managed alone?”

“No. No, she asked me to stay with her. She couldn’t have done it alone.”

“And neither did I.”

Baffled by what Bruce was saying, Tim tried to catch Bruce’s gaze, but he seemed stubborn to avoid it, as if he wouldn’t get the words out if he looked at Tim.

“I spoke at length with Alfred, Dick and Barbara. They think you’ve warranted the name. I suppose Dick’s opinion counts for Robin more than the others.”

“…What did he say?”

Sighing, Bruce planted his hands down behind him, leaning back, face contemplative.

“That Robin wasn’t mine to give, regardless. Dick had given you his blessing, and that was all that mattered. I said perhaps, but Tim also wants to work with me, and that part I do need to give my blessing to.”

“And… do…you…?” Whispered out of fear of what one syllable word was to follow, Tim watched, chest and stomach squirming with anguish, as Bruce blew an angry gust of air out and screwed up his face.

Alfred poked his head out the door then, making Tim jump a mile. Alfred smiled mischievously.

“Master Tim, I’ve let a young girl through the front gate. I believe you know her?”

“Wait what the what?” Tim turned to see Stephanie huffing over the crest of the hill on a bicycle. Tim and Bruce both stared in utter astonishment as the girl who had been shot twice less than a week ago began to wheel down the slope, apparently quite happy and over her brutal injuries.

“Well then,” muttered Bruce, standing up. He stared at Stephanie was a sort of fond bemusement. A distant echo of, “Oh this is a bigger hill than I thought,” drifted over to the manor, and they watched as she whirled over, pink helmet juddering up and down on her head. She was wearing jeggings with giant sneakers, and an oversized sweater that made her look like she was from the wrong decade. She belonged in a nineteen eighties teen sitcom, not twenty first century ragged Gotham.

She came to an abrupt stop at the base of the steps, losing control of the bike as it turned sideways sharply. She stumbled off, catching her foot on the pedals, squealing as the bike fell over onto her. She caught it, and corrected herself. Smiling brightly, she took off her helmet. Her golden hair had gone a bit static, flyaway strands sticking upwards. Bright red cheeks and a breathless joy made Tim’s mood lighter just from watching her.

“Hullo!” She greeted, glib as always. She wasn’t looking at any of the three men on the steps, however, she was focused on the massive scale of the stone house looming down. “Nice to meet you Mr. Wayne. Your house is very big.”

Bruce had put on his Brucie face and laughed fakely. “Yes, it is big. Who are you?”

Stephanie started awkwardly, and laughed, finally looking at Bruce, Alfred and Tim. “Oh. Sorry. This is rude. I’m Stephanie Brown. I’m hunting for Tim Drake which, hah, found you.”

Tim trotted down the steps and reached for her bike, holding it for her. “And how’d you do that?”

“Well, I found out where your dad lives, which – long story – was funny ‘cause when I turned up he said you were at Wayne Manor ‘cause you know you just casually hang out at Wayne Manor sometimes, like normal people do, so I asked him to tell me where it was ‘cause I wanted to surprise you! Are you busy? I think I’m interrupting something aren’t I? I can go if you want. Your dad was looking at me funny. Did you tell him about me? Did you tell him you’re madly in love with me?”

Tim blushed, Bruce stared, and Stephanie laughed.

“Seriously though, have I come at a bad time?”

“No! No, you’re fine.”

She really wasn’t fine, nor was she supposed to just roll up to Wayne Manor with no invitation, but Alfred could have turned her away if he felt there was a need to.

“Oh, good, I just don’t want to be a bo – Hey! That’s your skateboard?”

Tim looked back at it sitting on the top step. “Oh. Yeah, that’s it.”

“That’s so cool! Can you show me how to ride it? Got time to go to the park?”

Stephanie was interrupted by Bruce, who walked down to be on equal standing with the young couple. “Stephanie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m just finishing up with Tim. He runs chores for us every now and then you see. But we’re pretty much done now.”

Tim reached out and held Stephanie’s wrist, needing the physical contact. She nodded, completely oblivious to his mood.

“Sure sure. Sorry both, I know this is a little off the cuff.”

“Quite alright!” Bruce said, turning away. He reached across and grabbed Tim’s skateboard, and held it out for him. More than a little despondent, Tim limply took it.

“Tim, see that you come back around tonight though. Need to start fitting the suit for the thingy. Better let your dad know that your workload is going to go up from now on.”

Blinking at the floor, Tim felt the gears grinding in his head as the dots connected and the stars aligned. He looked upwards at Bruce; Alfred’s nose twitched mischievously at his employer.

“…Sure. I’ll tell him.”

“Grand. See you tonight Tim. Nice to meet you Stephanie.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

Tim stood, jaw against the floor, unable to comprehend what he thought had just been hinted. Bruce said nothing more and returned inside the manor.

_Suit…Work…Evenings…Robin???_

“I will buzz you out once you reach the front gate Miss Brown.”

“Thank you Mr…”

“Pennyworth.”

“Pennyworth! Thank you, Mr Pennyworth!”

Alfred rolled his eyes and closed the front door, leaving Tim and Stephanie alone in the front porch. Tim wanted to run a mile. He wanted to jump up and down. He wanted to swing Stephanie around. He wanted to ring Dick or Babs and just scream down the other end.

Instead, he turned to Stephanie, and kissed her cheek.

“Can’t believe you tracked me down.”

“I have my ways.” She whispered conspiratorially. “You know you can look people up from when they register to vote? Your dad’s a good citizen.”

“Oh… yeah. He tries.”

She giggled and went to climb back on her bike.

“To the park then? Then dinner.”

Tim gently bumped her back off. Saying nothing, he stuffed his board in his backpack and climbed on her pink bike. He gestured for her to clamber on as well, perched on the bars on the back wheel. She chuckled, the playfully slapped her helmet on his head and buckled it nice and neat.

“Onwards chauffeur.”

“You know,” he said as they set off. Getting over the hill was going to be a nightmare, Stephanie would be just as quick walking, but a strike of insanity made him determined to carry the two of them over the hill. He began to puff with the strain. “You shouldn’t… have cycled all this way! Your stitches…”

“Ah, it’s fine! Fit as a fiddle. Clean bill of health, mental and physical. Well kinda, but hey. I’ll get there. Mom and me got a court hearing in a few days. Starting to get on first name basis with those guys, seems like we’re there once a year… Anyway, you’ve been doing okay this week? I was worried about you. After the friend request I hear nothing…”

“Me? Stephie, I’m not the one who was… sick all over herself, hunted by the mob, shot in the leg, shot in the stomach… thrown off a bridge, betrayed by her father, tasered two people… and knocked out a few others, and of course let’s not forget running over your mother.”

“…Words hurt Timothy.”

“Wow… _Timothy_. Full name derision.”

He huffed and pressed on, struggling up the hill. He was determined to succeed, if only for the fact that he had a sneaking suspicion that Bruce was definitely watching through the front window. He was _Robin_ now, he would cycle up a hill for goodness sake! 

“Hey come on. Going home with Batman after… he wasn’t cruel was he?”

“Cruel? No. Felt like it at the time... He’s a big fan of the silent treatment. But –”

The bike wobbled as it had slowed down to an unbalancing pace. Tim grunted and stood up to gain more momentum. Stephanie saw the effort he was putting in and decided to tease him.

“But…?”

“But… it’s…fine.” Stephanie grinned as he punctuated each word with a cycle of the pedals, watching his cheeks puff in and out with the effort of speaking. “I…failed…the test… but… I still… got Robin…Wheew!” He stopped as he reached the top, collapsing on the hard seat. Stephanie tapped the top of the helmet, Tim’s jaw vibrating from the impact. She clambered off the bike, noticing he wasn’t pressing the breaks. The hill turned downwards, straight towards the large black gates that Mr Pennyworth had promised to open for them. 

“As you should! Best guy for the job.” She moved to the back and rested her hands on the back wheel and frame of the bike. She rocked it back and forth, Tim raising his heels off the floor to allow her to do so. “And this is good. Now you can train me too to help at night.” 

“Wait wh-”

She shoved as hard as she could, sending Tim rocketing down the hill. He screamed the whole way down, causing her to double over with laughter. He jolted the bike to the right as she had done, but still flipped completely over, rolling professionally as he was no doubt trained to do. Stephanie ran down the hill, breathless with joy. The bike clanged against the fence, which comically began to swing open a moment too late to prevent Tim’s accident. As she approached, she could hear him bitching to himself.

“God what the hell! Some warning would be you know…welcome”

She crashed into him, kissing him hard on the lips. Instantly his hands went up, squishing her cheeks. It was a wet and clumsy kiss, one that made a squelching sucking noise when they separated, but to Tim it was perfect. Steph pecked his lips once more.

“You have no idea how glad I am you were there last week.”

“Me too.”

She smiled, then reached behind Tim and tugged out his skateboard.

“C’mon, it’s flat from here on out. You skate and I’ll cycle. My dad’s going back to prison, my mom is safe, and I am healing nicely. Now…I want my first date, boy wonder.”

Taking off her helmet from his head, she set off, waving him to follow her. She wanted to move past her parents, wanted to look forward to something better, something _more_. That sweet, earnest, handsome boy who was more a hero than any Bat. Tim was her greatest chance to _do_ more, to _be_ more. 

Snapping the board and wheels down, Tim kicked the ground a few times, then caught up. The past week of misery fell behind him, and instead of one door being slammed shut in his face, it was like the entire wall had caved in. So many new possibilities, and all with this mystifyingly bright faced blonde riding next to him.

* * *

Bruce and Alfred watched on the CCTV monitors as the pair rounded the hill and stumbled through the gate together. Both men were struck with how young they were. 

Alfred coughed politely. “Those two may grow to be joint at the hip Master Bruce.”

Bruce said nothing and continued to watch. He frowned momentarily, but not from anger, only from being deep in thought. 

“You think so?”

“I received the impression they are quite smitten with each other.” 

“Let’s see what happens. If Stephanie truly does want training, to prevent a repeat of last week, maybe we can help her. Her mother and her are a bigger target than ever.”

“Hmm. I will inform Miss Gordon. She seemed quite intrigued by Miss Brown.”

“Sounds good Alfred. I need to call Dick, see if he can come home tonight.”

Bruce continued to watch until the pair were out of sight of the cameras. He laughed quietly to himself. Any plans he had made for Tim becoming Robin were looking increasingly vague. 

Somehow, he didn’t particularly mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! So this totally did not go where I had originally planned for it to go, but the end remains much of the same. Initially Tim was going to leave Stephanie (who hadn't been badly hurt) at the safe house, and Bruce would find Stephanie, and then go after Tim, who was going after Crystal, with Stephanie deciding to follow both men for the final fight, but I couldn't justify either bloke just leaving her behind. She was dragged around so much in the story and poor Crystal was just left to sit on the floor. I think I need Stephanie to be like no no, let's go after my mother, and for Bruce to prioritise Crystal, since she was the one in immediate danger. 
> 
> I was also trying with this story to write as I went along which worked fine for once a week updates, but honestly there's a lot in hindsight I would insert in earlier chapters which I only think about towards the end so... eh. Like for example in hindsight I need to give an explanation where on earth Cassandra is. Because I wanted her to be with Oracle, but more in her initial No Man's Land appearance, not Batgirl yet. Ahhh hindsight is 20/20. It was an experience writing in this way though! So I am trying different methods. I'm still getting used to writing again you see.
> 
> Annnnyyywaaaaaaaaaaay, I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment and kudos if you did, and maybe share it too? 
> 
> Say hi on tumblr if you like (same username) if you wanna chat or give prompts or whatever! See you next time!
> 
> P.S All I can imagine for Stephanie riding her bike is that one scene from Modern Family where Gloria is terrible at it but also being shot at by a water gun... I'm sure Steph has a bit more grace than that.


End file.
